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f 



THE 



WORKS 



OF THE 



, ENGLISH POETS. 



I WITH 

PREFACES, 

BIOGRAPHICAL AND CRITICAL, 
BY SAMUEL JOHNSON. 



VOLUME THE FIFTEENTH, 



LONDON: 

PRINTED BY R. HETTJ 

, FOR C. BATHURST, J. BUCKLAND, W. STRAHAN, J. RIVINC* 
TON AND SONS, T.DAVIES, T. PAYNE, L, DAVIS, W, OWEN^ 
fi. WHITE, S. CROWDER, T. CASLON, T. LONGMAN, 
B. LAW, E. AND C» DILLY, J. DODSLEY, H. BALDWIN, 
J. WILKIE, J.ROBSON, J.JOHNSON, T.LOWNDES, 
T.BECKET, O.ROBINSON, T.CADELL, W.DAVIS, 
J.NICHOLS, F. NEWBKRY, T.EVANS, J. RID- 
LEY, R. BALDWIN, O.NICOL, LEIGH AND 
SOTHEBV, J. BEW, N. CONANT, 
J. MURRAY, W. F0X,J.^0WEM. 
M DCC LZXXXt 



/ 



T H B 

POEMS- 

O F 

D R Y D E N. 

VOLUME III. 






T A L E S 



AND 



I 



TRANSLATIONS. 



By Mr. D R Y D E N. 



i- Vol. ni. 



I 3 3 

T O 

' IDs (jfrace die Duks «f Ormond* 

Mr L o R Dy Anno 1699. 

COME eftates are lield in En^and, liy paying a 
*^ fine at the change of every lord : I have enjoyed 
tlie patronage of your faniilyy from the time of your 
acellent grandfather to this prefent day. I have de- 
dicated the tranflation of the lives of Plutarch to the 
irtt Duke ; and have celebrated the memory of your 
.W>ic father. Though I am very (hort of the age of 
lfcftor» yet I have Uved to a third generation of your 
boufe; and by your Grace*s favour am admitted ftill to 
) iiold from you by the fame tenure. 

I am not vain enough to boafl that I have deferved 
I 4)e value of fo illuftrious a line; but ray fortune is the 
^* ■greater, that for three defcents they have been pleafed 
to diftingui/h my poems from thofe of other men j and 
hvt accoidingly made me their peculiar care. May it 
Ik permitted me to fay, That as your grandfitther and 
■father were cherifhed and adorned with honours by 
two fuccefiive monarchs, fo I have been efteemed and 
patronised by the grandfather, the father, and the fon» 
dcfcended from one of the moft anient, moft -con- 
fpicuous, and moft deferving families in Europe. 

It is ti-ue, that by delaying the payment of my laft 

^ when it was due by your Grace*4 acceflion to the 

M A titles 



p 



4 DEDICATION. 

titles and patrimonies of your houfe, I may feemji' 
rigour of law, to have made a forfeiture of my ciain 
yet my heart has always been devoted to your fervic 
and fmce you have been gracioufly pleafed, by y< 
permiflion of this addrefs, to accept the tender of r 
duty, it is not yet too late to lay thefe volumes at yo 
feet. 

The world is fcnfible that you worthily fuccecd, r 
only to the honours of your anceftors, but alfo to thi 
virtues. The long chain of magnanimity, coura{ 
eafinefs of accefs, and defire of doing good even to 1 
prejudice of your fortune, is fo far from being brok 
in your Grace, that the precious metal yet runs pi 
to the'neweft link of it s which I will not call the la 
becaufe I hope and pray, it may defcend* to late pofi 
rity : and your flourilhing youth, and that of yo 
excellent Dutchefs, are happy omens of my wifli. 

It is obferved by Livy and by others, that (bme 
the nohleft Roman families retained a refemblance 
their anceftry, not only in their fliapes and featun 
but alfo in their manners, their qualities, and t 
diftinguiftiing charafters of their minds: fome lin 
were noted for a ftern, rigid virtue, favage, haught 
parfimonious, and unpopular : others were more fwei 
and affable $ made of a more pliant pafte, humbl 
courteous, and obliging 5 ftudious of doing charitat 
offices, and diffufive of the goods which they enjoye 
The lail of thefe is the proper and indelible chai'a6( 
of your Grace's family. God Almighty has endui 
you with a foftnefs, a beneficence, an attraftive beh; 
4 vioi 



} DEDICATION. 5 

• Tionr wioning on the hearts of others ; and fo fenfihle 

of their mifery, that the wounds of foitune fcem not 

infli^ed on them, but on yourfelf. You are fo ready 

,, to redrefs, that you almoft prevent their wi flies, and 

Avays exceed their expefbtions : as if what was yours, 

was not your own, and not given you to poffcfs, but 

to beftow on wanting merit. But this is a topic which 

I muft caft in Ihades, left I offend your modefty, which 

^ is (b far from being oftentatious of the good you do, 

^ diat it blu flies even to have it known ; and therefore I 

bLinuft leave you to the fatisfa£lion and teftimony of your 

\ * own confcience, which though it be a filent panegyric, 

[ it yet the beft. 

You are fo eafy of accefs, that Poplicola was not 
inore, whofe doors were opened on the outiide to fave 
the people even the common civility of aflcing entrance ; 
where all were equally admitted j where nothing that 
WM reafonable was denied ; where misfortune was a 
^fowerful recommendation, and where (I can fcarce 
fcibcar faying) that want itfeif was a powerful media- 
tor, and was next to merit. 

The hiftory of Peru aflures us, that their Incas, 

above all their titles, cftccmeJ that the highelt, which 

Kcilled them Lovers of the poor: a name more glorious 

, I than the Felix, Pius, and Auguftus of the Roman 

rcmpcrors ; which were epithets of flattery, defcrved by 

f ^ of them ; and not running in a blrod like the per- 

. VprtTial gentlcnefs, and inherent goodnefs of the Ormond 

I Family. 

B J Gold, 



-I 



( DEDICATION. 

Qoldf as it Is the ptireft^ fb it is the fofeft, an 
du^ik of all metals : iron, which is the harde 
thers ruft, coonodes itielf ; and Is therefore ful 
corruption : it was never intended for coins' and n 
or to bear faces and the infcriptions of the great. '. 
it is fit for armour, tobear oiFinru]t»> and prefei 
wearer in the day of battle : but the daager oi 
pelled, It is laid afide by the brave, as a'gamK 
rough for civil converfation : a necef&ry guard i 
But too harfh and eumberfome in peace, and 
keeps off the embraces of a more hunuuie life. 

For this reafon, my lord» though you have o 
m an beroical <fcgree, yet I afcrrbe it to you, 
y^ur fecond attribute : mercy, beneficence, and 
pafiion, claim precedence, as they are firft in the 
nature. An intrepid courage, which is inher 
your Grace, is at beft but a holiday kind of virt 
be feldora exercifed, and never but in cafes of nee 
affability, mildneis, tendemefs, and a word, w 
would fain bring back to its orignal fignificati 
virtue, I mean Good -nature, are of daily ufe : th 
the bread of mankind, and ftafFof life : neither 
nor tears, nor groans, nor curfes of the vanqi 
follow a£ls of compafilon, and of charity : but 
cere pltafure and ferenity of mind, in hhn wh( 
forms an ailion of mercy, which cannot fuffer the 
fortunes of another, without rcdrefs 5 left they ( 
bring a kind of contagion alon]^ with them, and p 
the happinefs which he enjoys. 
4 



DEDICATION. 7 

Yet fincc the pcrverfe tempers of mankind, fince op- 
frMan on one fide, and ambition on the other, arc 
fometimes the unavoidable occafions of war ; that cou- 
nge^ that magnanimity, and refolution, which is born 
.vith youy cannot be too much commended t and here 
it grieves me that I am fcanted in the pleafure of dwel- 
ling on many of yonr aflions : but ai/io^^i TfuAc is 
an expreilion which Tully often ufed, when he would 
do what he dares not, and fears the cenfure of the Ro- 
mans. 

I have fometimes been forced to amplify on others j but 
here^ where the fubje£l is fo fruitful that the harvcft over- 
comes the reaper, I am fhortened by my chain, and can 
only fee what is forbidden me to reach : fmce it is not 
pcnaitted me to commend you according to the ex- 
tent of my wishes, and much lefs is it in my power to 
make my commendations equal to your merits. Vet, 
in this frugality of your praifes, there are fomc things 
2 which I cannot omit, without deti-afling from your 
I chara£^er. You have Co formed your own education 
' as enables you to pay the debt you owe your country i 
^ or, more properly fpeaking, both your countries : be- 
caufe jrou were bom, I may almoft fay in purple, at the 
caftle of Dublin, when your grandfather was lord- 
lieutenant^ and have fince been bred in the court of 
England. 

If this addrefs had been in verfe, I might have called 
you, as Claudian calls Mercury, « Numcn commune, 
** gemino faciens commercia mundo.'* The bcttrr to 
fioisfy this double obligation, you have early cultivated 
\ 64 the 



I DEDICATION. 

the genius your have to arms, that when the fenrice o! 
Britain or Ireland (hall require your courage and yow 
condu6V, you may exert them both to the benefit oj 
cither country. You began in the cabinet what jroi 
afterwards pra£li fed in the camp; and thus both Lii< 
cullus and Caefar (to omit a crowd of (hining Romans] 
formed themfelves to war by the ftudy of hiftory, and 
by the examples of the greateft captains, both of Greea 
and Italy, before their time. I name thofe two com- 
manders in particular, becaufe they were better read ia 
chronicle than any of the Roman leaders j and that 
LucuIIus in particular, having only the theory of war 
from books, was thought fit, without pra^ice, to be 
ient into the field, againft the moft formidable enemy 
of Rome. Tully indeed was called the learned conful 
in derifion ; but then he was not bom a foldier t hit 
head was turned another way ; when he read the Tac- 
ticks, he was thinking on the bar, which was his 
field of battle. The knowledge of warfare is thrown 
away on a general who dares not make ufe of what he^ 
knows. I commend it only in a man of courage and 
refolution ; in him it will dire£l his martial fpirit ; and 
teach him the way to the befl viftories, which are thofe. 
that are lead bloody, and which, though atchieved byv 
the hand, are managed by the head. Science diftin- 
guiihes a man of honour from one of thofe athletic 
brutes whom undefei-vedly we call heroes. Curfed be 
the poet, who iirft honoured with that name a meer 
Ajax, a man-killing ideot. The UlyfTes of Ovid up- . 
braids his ignorance^ that he underftood not the ihield. 

for 



DEDICATION. 9 

fbr which he pleaded : there were engraven on it, plans 
of cities, and maps of conntries, Mrhich Ajax could not 
comprehend, but looked on them as ftupidly as his 
fellow-beaft the lion. But, on the other iide, your 
Grace has given yourfelf the education of his rival r 
you have fludied every fpot of ground in Flanders* 
which for thefe ten years pad has been the fcene of bat- 
tles and of fieges. No wonder if you performed your 
part with fuch applaufe on a theatre which you under- 
ftood ib well. 

If I defigned this for a poetical encomium, it were 
cafy to enlarge on Co copious a fubje6l ; but, confining 
myielf to the feverity of truth, and to what is becom- 
ing me to fay, I muft not only pafs over many inftan* 
ces of your military (kill, but alfo thofe of your ardu- 
ous diligence in the war : and of your perfonal bravery* 
attended with an ardent thirft of honour ; a long train 
of generoilty ; profufenefs of doing good $ a foul unfa- 
tisiied with all it has done ; and an unextinguifhed de- 
fire of doing more. But all this is matter for your own 
hiftorians ; I am, as Virgil fays, ** Spatiis exclufut 
iniquis.** 

Yet, not to be wholly filent of all your charities, I 
muft ftay a little on one a^ion, which preferred the re- 
lief of others to the confideration of yourfelf. When, 
in the battle of Landen, your heat of courage (a fault 
only pardonable to your youth) had tranfported you fo 
far before your friends, that they were unable to fol- 
low, much lefs to fuccour you j when you were not 
only daogeroufly, but in all appearance mortally woimd* 



19 totDtCAtlO^. 

cdy when in that defperate eondifion you vMtt itaa'db 
fnifoner, and carried to Namur, at that t^b in pofiiir- 
iion of the French j then it wai, my lord, that yon 
took a coniiderable part of what was remitted to yoa 
of your own revenues, and as a memorable inftance of 
your heroic charity, put it into the bands of count 
Guifcard, who was governor of the place, to be diftri- 
buted among your fellow-prifoners. The French com* 
mander, charmed with the greatnefs of your foul, ac* ^ 
cordingly coniigned it to the ufe for which it was in- 
tended by the donor ; by which means the lives of fo 
many miferable men were faved, and a comfortable 
provifion made for their fubfiftence, who had otherwiflf 
periihedy had not you been the companion of their mif- 
fortune : or rather fent by Providence, like another Jo- 
ieph, to keep out famine from invading thofe whom in 
humility you called your brethren. How happy was it 
for thofe poor creatures, that your Grace was made 
their fellow-fufferer ! and how glorious for yotf, tliat' 
you chofe to want, rather thKh not relieve the wants of 
others ! The heathen poet, in commending the charity of 
Dido to the Trojans, fpoke like a chriftian j " Nonig*- 
nara mali, miferis fuccurrere difco/* All mefl, even 
thofe of a different intereft, and contrary principles; 
muft praife this aflion, as the moft eminent for jpittff 
not only in this degenerate age, but almoft in any of 
the former j when men were made " de meltore luto }'• 
when examples of charity were frequent, and when 
they were in being, ** Teucri pulchenims proles, maj^-^ 
nanimi heroes natt melioribus annis/* . No^nvy can 



DEDICATiaW. vff 

&tn£b from this: 'it will fhine In hiftory; and, like 
iwant, grow^'whiter the longer it endures i and the 
name of Owond ' ^11 be more celebrated In his cap« 
tirityy thnn in bia gi'eatcj^ triumpha. 

But all aftions of your grace are of a piece ; as wa- 
ters keep the tenor of their fountains i your compa/Iion 
is general, and has the fame eflfeft as well on enemies 
aa friends. It is^o much in your nature to do good, 
. that your life is but one continufd a6l of placing bene- 
^ £ts on many, as the fun Is always carrying his light to- 
ibmepartor other of the world: and were it not that 
your reafon g^deb you where to give, I might almoft 
fay that yon could not help bellowing more, than is 
- confiftijig with the fortune of a private man, or with the 
will of any but an Alexander. 
What wonder is it then, that, being bom for a blef- 
. fmg to mankind, your fuppofed death in that engage- 
; meant was fo generally lamented through the nation f 
The concernment for it was as univerfal as the lofs : and 
though the gratitude mifht be counterfeit in feme, yet 
the tears of ally were real : where every man deplored 
Ills private part in that calamity, and even thofe, who 
had .not tafted of your favours, yet built fo much on 
the fame of your beneficence, that they bemoaned the 
lofs of their s^)e£lations. 

This brought the untimely death of your great father 
into frefh remembrance ; as if the fame decree had pafled 
•ntwo-, ihortfocceflive generations of the viituousj and 
I repeated to myfcif the (ame verfes, which I had for- 
merly applied to him & ** OAendunt terns hunc tantun» 

fata^ 



t% DEDICATION. 

feta, nc: ultra cflc fmunt." But to* the jov not only of 
all good men, but of mankind in general, ^e unhappy 
omen took not place. You are mlf living to enjoy the 
blefllngs and applaufeof all thi^ood you havQQperform- 
ed, the prayers of multitudes whom you have obliged, 
for your long profperity ; and that your power of doing 
generous and charitable a£lions may be as extended as 
your will ; which is by none more zealoufly defu^d than 

Your G R A c £*s 

Moft humble, 

Mxjft obliged, and 

Moft obedient (ervant, 
♦ y 

JOHN DRYDEN. , 



PRE. 



» f 

■A 



i IS ] 



f 



PREFACE prefixed to the FABLES, 



IT it vrith a poet as with a man who defies to build, 
and is vc^ exaCl, as he fuppofes, in cafting up the 
' coft bcforehahd ; but, generally fpeaking, he is mifhken 
^.x >n his account, and reckons (hort in the expence he 
^£ril intend^d : he alters his mind as the work proceeds, 
' and will have this or that convenience more, of which 
' he had not thought when he began. So has it happen* 
'ed to me : I have built a houfcy^where I intended but a 
lodge t yet with better fuccefs than a certain nobleman, 
who, beginning with a dog-kennel, never lived to finifh 
the palace he had contrived. 

From tranflating the firft of Homer^s Iliads (which I 
intended as an eflay to the whole work) I proceeded to 
(he tr^-nflation of the twelfth book of Ovid's Metamor- 
phofet, becaufe it contains, among other things, the 
, caufes, the beginning, and ending of the Trojan war j 
"^ here I ought in reafon to liave flopped } but the fpeeches 
of Ajax and UlylTet lying next in my way, I could not 
balk theSi. When I had compafTed them, I was fo 
taken with the former part of the fifteenth book (which 
is the matter-piece of the whole Metamorphofes), that I 
enjoined myfelf the pleafing talk of rendering it into 
Englifli. And now I found, by the number of my 
ver&s, that they began to fwell into a little volume; 

whicli 



14 1> R E F A C E. . 

wKich gave me an occaiion of looking backwaA 
'fome beauties of my author, in his former bool 
there occumd-to me the hunting of the boar, Cin) 
and Myrrha, the good-natured ftory of Baucis ; 
Philemon, with the reft, which I hope I have tran)b 
clofely enough, and given them the ia^ie tuna of v* 
which they had in the original ^ ' and tb^y I may 
without vanity, is not the taJent of every {toet : he ^ 
lias arrived the ncM-eft to it, is the tngenioue and lea 
«d Sandys, the beft verifier of the former age ; if 1 1 
properly call it by that nadie which was thefoi^er j 
of this concludmg century. For Spenfer and Fail 
1)oth flouriihed in ihe reign of queen Elizabeth ; g 
iinafters in our language .^ and who irk much far 
into the beauties of our numbers, than tfaoie who 
mediately followed them. Miltoa. was the poetical 
of Spenfer, and Mr. Waller of Fairfax 5 for we 1 
our lineal defcents and clans, as well a« other famil 
iSpenfer more than once inHnuates, that the fou 
Chaucer was transfufed into his body $ 2^ that he 
l>egotten by him two hundred years after his dec< 
3<lilton has acknowledged to me, that Spenfer v«ras 
■original 4 and many beiides myielf kive heard our 
tnous Waller own, that he derived the harmony of 
numbers from the Godfiiey of Bnlloign, which 
turned into Engliih by Mr. Fairfax* But to reti 
iiaving.done with Ovid for thic time, it came intc 
9nind, that our old Engliih poet -Chaucer in o 
things xefemblfid hm$ and that with no difadyanta| 



PREFACE. 15 

^ (de of the modern author, as I (hall endeavour to 
prore when I compare them : and as I am, and always 
&IIYC been, ftudious to promote the honour of my na- 
nwe country, ib I ibon refolved to put their merits to 
die trial, by turning fome of the Canterbury tales into 
«ur language, as it is now refined i for by this meant 
both the poets being fet in the fame light, and drefTed in 
the fame EUglifh habit, (lory to be compared with ftory» 
a certsun judgment may be made betwixt them, by the 
reader, without obtruding my opinion on him : or if I 
fcem partial to my countryman, and predeceifor in the 
laurel, the friends of antiquity are not few: andbefidet 
many of the learned, Ovid has almoft all the beaux, and 
the whole /air fex, his declared patrons. Perhaps I have 
affumed fomewhat more to myfelf than they allow me s 
becaufe I have adventured to fum up the evidence : but 
the readers are the jury j and their privilege remain^ en- 
tire to decide according to the merits of the caufe, or if 
they pleaie, to bring it to another hearing, before fome 
«ther court. In the mean time, to follow the thread of 
my difcourfe (as thoughts, according to Mr. Hobbes, 
liave always fome connexion) fo from Chaucer I was led 
to think on Boccace, who was not only his contempo- 
rary, but alfo purfued the fame ftudies ; wrote novels 
in profe, and many works in verfe ; particularly is faid 
to have invented the o6lave rhyme, or ftanza of eight 
lines, which ever fince has been maintained by the prac« 
:dce of all Italian writers, who are, or at lead aifume 
the title of. Heroic Poets : he and Chaucer^ among 

«ther 



1^ PREFACE. 

other things, had this in common, that they refined 
their mother tongues ; but with this difference, that 
Dante had begun to file their language, at leaft in yerfe, 
before the time of Boccace, who likewife received no 
little help from his mafter Petrarch. But the reforma- 
^on of their profe was wholly owing to Boccace himfelf, 
who is yet the ftandard of purity in the Italian tongue | 
though many of his phrafes are become obfolete, as in 
procefs of time it mutt needs happen. Chaucer (as you 
have formerly been told by our learned Mr. Rymer) 
firft adorned and amplified our barren tongue from the 
Provencall, which was then the rooft poliihed of all the 
I modem languages ; but this fubje^l has been copioufly 
treated by that great critic, who deferves no little com- 
mendation from us his countrymen. For thefe rea/bnt 
of time, and refemblance of genius in Chaucer and Boc- 
cace, I refolved to join them in my prefent work ; to 
which I have added fome original papers of my own i 
which whether they are equal or infeiior to my other 
poems, an author is the mofl improper judge; and 
therefore I leave them wholly to the mercy of the reader. 
I will hope the beft, that they will not be condemned | 
but if they fhould, I have the excufe of an old gentle- 
man, who, mounting on horfeback before fome ladies, 
when I was prefent, got up fomewhat heavily, but de- 
fired of the fair fpc£lators, that they would count 
fourfcorc and eight before they judged him. By the 
snercy of God, I am already come within twenty years 
<tf his mimber, a cripple in my limbs j but what decays 
• are 



PREFACE. 17 

are in my mind, the reader muft determine. I think 
myfelf as vigorous as ever in the faculties of my foul, 
excepting only my memory, which is not impaired to 
any great degree ; and if I lofe not more of it, I have 
ED great reafon to complain. What judgment I had, 
increaies rather than d'!nini/hes; and thoughts, fuch as 
they are, come crov/ding in fo fail: upon me, that my 
only difficulty is to chufe or to i*eje6l ; to run them into 
verfe, or to give them the other harmony of profc. I 
have To long (ludied and pra£lifed both, that they are 
grown into a habit, and become familiar to me. In 
ihort, though I may lawfully plead fomc part of the 
old gentleman^s excufe j yet I will referve it till I think 
I have greater need, and aik no grains of allowance 
for the faults of this my prefent work, but thofe which 
are given of courfe to human frailty. I will not trouble 
my reader with the (hortnefs of time in which I writ it, 
or the feveral intervals of ficknefs : they who think too 
well of their own performances, are apt to boaft in their 
prefaces how little time their works have cod them 3 and 
what other bufinefs of more importance interfered ; but 
the reader will be as apt to aik the queftion, why they 
allowed not a longer time to make their works more per- 
feft ? and why they had fo defpicable an opinion of their 
judges, as to thruft their indigefted fluff upon them, as 
if they deferved no better ? 

With this account of my prefent undertaking, I con- 
clude the firft part of this difcourfe : in the fecond part, 
as at a fecond fitting, though I alter not the draught, I 
muft touch the fame features over again, and change the 
Vol. III. C dead 



iS PREFACE. 

dead colouring of the whole. In general I will only 
fay, that I have written nothing which favours of im- 
morality or profanenefs ; at leaft, I am not confcious .to 
n^yfelf of any fuch intention. If there happen to be 
found an irreverent expreflion, or a thought too wanton, 
they are crept into ray verfes through my inadvertency ; 
if the fearchers find any in the cargo, let them he ftaved 
or forfeited, like contraband goods ; at leaft, let their 
authoi^ be anfwerable for them, as being but imported 
merchandife, and not of my own manufafture. On the 
«ther fide, I have endeavoured to choofc fuch fables, 
both ancient and modem, as contain in each of them 
fome inllru6iive moral, which I could prove by in- 
duflion, but the way is tedious ; and they leap 
foremoft into fight, without the reader's trouble of 
looking after them. I wifh I could afiirm with a fafe 
confcience, that 1 had taken the fame care in all my 
former writings ; for it muft be owned, that fuppofing 
verfes are never fo beautiful or pleafing, yet if they con- 
tain any thing which ihocks religion, or good-manners,, 
they are at bed, what Horace fays of good numbers 
without good fenfe, " Verfus inopes rerum, nugaeque 
•* canorae." Thus far, I hope, I am right in court, 
without renouncing my other right of felf-defence, 
where I have been wrongfully accufed, and my fenfc 
wire-drawn into blafphemy or bawdry, as it has often 
been by a religious lawyer, in a late pleading againft the 
ftage ; in which he mixes truth with falfehood, and has 
not forgotten the old rule of calumniating ftrongly, that 
fomething may remain, 

I ref ame 



PREPACK. 19 

I refume the thread of my difcourfc with the firft of m^ 
tranilntion, which was the firft Iliad of Homer. If it 
(hall pleafe God to give me longer life, and moderate 
bealthy ray intentions are to tranflate the whole Ilias| 
{)rovided ftill that I meet with thofe encouragements 
from the public, which may enable me to proceed in 
my untlertaking with fome chearfulnefs. And this I 
dare afTure the world before-hand, that I have found, 
by trial. Homer a more pleafing ta& than Virgil 
(though I fay not the tranilation will be lefs laborious) t 
for the Grecian is more according to my genius, than 
the Latin poet. In the works of the two authors we 
may read their manners, and natural incHnationts 
which are wholly different. Virgil was of a quiet, fe* 
date temper ; Homer was violent, impetuous, and full 
of fire. The chief talent of Virgil was propriety of 
thoughts, and ornament of words: Homer was rapid 
in his thoughts, and took all the liberties, both of num- 
bers and of expreflions, which his la^nguage, and the 
age in which he livedo allowed him : Homer''s inven- 
tion was more cqpious, Virgirs more confined : Co 
that if Homer had not led the way, it was not in Virgil 
to have begun heroic poetry : for nothing can -be more 
evident, than thiit the Roman poem is but the fecond 
pdrt of the Ilias; a continuation of the fame flory s 
and theperfons already formed : the manners of JEnetit 
are thofe of Hc6lor fuperadded to thofe which Homer 
gave him. The Adventures of Ulyffes in the Odyffcis 
are imitated in the firft Six Books of Virgirs JEncisi 
and though the accidents ' are not the fiMsoe (which 
C % would 



.Ao PREFACE, 

would have argued him of a fervlle copying, and to 
barrenncfs of invention) yet the feae vtrere the fan 
in whicli both the heroes wandcied ; and Dido cam 
be denied to be -the poetical daughtei* of Calypfo.' T 
fix latter books of Virgil's poem are the four and twei 
Iliads contra£led : a quairel occafioned by a lady, 
iingle combat, battles fought, and a town beiieged- 
iay not this in derogation to Virgil, neither do I cc 
tradift any thing which I have formerly faid in his j 
praife : for his Epifodes are almoii wholly of his o 
invention; and the form, which he has gi\en to 
telling, makes the tale his own, even though the c 
ginal flory had been the fame. But this proves, ho 
ever, that Homer taught Virgil to defign : and if i 
vention be the firft virtue of an Epic poet, then 
Latin poem can only be allowed the fecond pla 
Mr Hobbes, in the preface to his own bald tranflati 
of the Ilias, (iludying poetry as he did mathematicl 
when it was too late) Mr Hobbes, I fay, begins 
praife of Homer where he ftiould have ended it. 
tells us, that the firft beauty of an Epic poem con£ 
in di6lion, that is, in the choice of words, and harmc 
«f numbers ^ now, the words are the colouring of 
work, which in the order of nature is laft to be c( 
lldered. The defign, the difpofition, the manners, a 
the thoughts, are all before it : where any of thofe 
wanting or impeife6>, fo much wants or is imperfe6l 
the imitation of human life ; which is in the v«ry di 
iHtion of a poem. Words Indeed, like glaring colou 
are the firft beauties that arife, and ftrike the figl 
but if the draught be falfe or lame, the figures ill-d 



PREFACE. 21 

pofedy the manners obfcure or inconfiftent, or the 
thoughts unnatural, then the fineft colours are but 
daubingy and the piece is a beautiful monfter at the 
beft. Neither Virgil nor Homer were deficient in any 
of the former beauties j but in this laft, which is ex- 
preifion, the Roman poet is at kaft equal to the Gre. 
cian, as I have laid el lew here ; fupplying the poverty 
of his language by his mufical ear, and by his dili- 
gence. But ta return : our two great poets, being fo 
different in their tempers, one choleiic and fanguine, 
the other phlegnvatic and melancholic j that v/hich 
makes tliem' excel in their feVeral ways, i*, that each of 
them has followed his own natural inclination, as well 
in forming the defign, as in the execution of it. The 
very heroes fhew their authors; Achilles is^ hot, im- 
patient, revengeful, " Impiger, iracundus, inexorabilis, 
** acer, &c.'' -^neas patient, confideratc, careful of 
his people, and merciful to his enemies : ever fubmiifive 
tathe wiU of heaven, **quo fata trahunt, retrahuntque, 
" fequarour." I could pleafe myfelf with enlarging on 
this fubjeft, but I am forced to defer k to a fitter time* 
From all I have faid, I will only draw this inference, 
that the adlion of Homer being more full of vigour 
than that of Virgil, according to the temper of the wri- 
ter, is of confequence more pleafing to the reader. One 
warms you by degrees. j the other fets you on fire all at 
once, and never intermits his heat. It is the fame dif- 
ference which Longinus makes betwixt the effefts of 
eloquence in Demofthenes and Tully. One perfuades ; 
the odier commands. . Vou never cool while you read 
C 3 Homer^ 



im PREFACE. 

Homer, even not in the feconJ book (a gi^acefiil ffat 
tcry to his countrjmen) ; but he haftens frorir t\ 
ffiips, and concludes not that book till he has mad 
you an amends by the violent playing of a new machini 
From- thence he hurries on his a^ion with variety c 
events, and ends it in lefs compafs than two monthi 
This vehemence of his, I confefs, is more Aiitable t 
my temper; and therefore I have tranflated his fir 
book with greater pleafure than any part of Virgil 
but it was not a pleafure without pains t the continue 
agitations of the fpirits muil needs be a weakening c 
any conftitHtion, efpecially in age j and many pcufc 
arc required for refre/liment betwixt the heats 5 th 
Iliad of itfeif being a third part longer than all Virgil' 
works together. 

This i» what I thought needful in this place to fa 
of Homer. I proceed to Ovid and Chaucer ; confider 
ing the former only in relation to line latter. Wit 
Ovid ended the golden age of the Roman tongne 
from Chaucer the purity of the Englifli tongue be 
gan. The manners of the poets were not unlike 
both of them were well-bred, well-natured, amorons 
and libertine, at leaft in their writings, it may be alf 
in their lives. Their ftudies were the fame, philofoph] 
and philology. Bothof them were known in aftronomy 
of which Ovid's books of the Roman fsads, and Chau 
cer's treatife of the Aftrolabe, are fufficient withefTes- 
But Chaucer was likcwife an aftrologer, as were Virgil 
Horace, Perfius, and Manilius. Both writ with won 
derful facility and clearnefi : neither were great inven< 

torsi 



PREFACE. ft} 

tors: for Ovid only copied ^e Grecian fables; and 
moft of Chaucers dories were taken from his Italian 
contemporaries, or their predeceflbrs. Boccace^s De- 
cameron was firft publifhed j and from thence our Eng- 
lifhman has bon-owed many of his Canterbury tales : 
yet that of Palaroon and Arcite was written in all 
|)robahility by fome Italian wit, in a former age ; as I 
Aall prove hereafter : the tale of Grizild was the in- 
Ycntion of Petrarch ; by him fent to Boccace ; from 
whom it came to Chaucer : Troihis and Creflida was 
t](b written by a Lombard author 5 but much ampli- 
fied by our Engliih tranflator, as well as beautified j 
the genius of our countrymen in general being rather 
to improve an invention, than to invent themfelves ; as 
IS evident not only in our poetry, but in many of our 
manufafiures. I And I have anticipated ali-eady, and 
taken up from Boccace before I come to him : but 
there is fo much iefs behind ; and I am of the temper of 
inoft kings, who love to be in debt ; are all for prefent 
money, no matter how they pay it afterwards : befides, 
the nature of a preface is rambling 5 never wholly out 
cf the way, nor in it. This I hive learned from the 
pra^ice of honeft Montaigne, and return at my pleafure 
to Qvid and Chaucer, of whom I have little more to 
fay. Both of them built on the inventions of other 
men ; yet iince Chaucer had fomcthing of his own, as 
The Wife of Bath's Tale, The Cock and the Fox, 
Which I have tr^nflated, and fome others, I may juftly 
give our countryman the precedence in that part ; fmce 
I can remember uoihinig of Ovid which was wholly his. 
C 4 Both 



24 PREFACE. 

Both of them underftood the manners, under whic 
name I comprehend the paflions, and, in a larger fenA 
the defcriptions of perfons, and their very habits : ft 
an example, I fee Baucis and Philemon as perfe£ll 
before me, as if fome ancient painter had drawn them 
and all the pilgrims in the Canterbury tales, their hi 
mours, their features, and the very drefs, as diftinf^l 
as if I had fupped with them at the Tabard in Soutl 
wark : yet even there too the figures in Chaucer a 
much more lively, and fet in a better light: whi< 
though I have not time to prove ; yet I appeal to tl 
reader, and am fure he will clear me from partialit 
The thoughts and words remain to be confidered in tl 
comparifon of the two poets ; and I have fayed myfi 
one half of that labour, by ov/ning that Ovid liv 
when the Roman tongue was in its meridian j Chaucc 
in the dawning of our language : therefore that part 
the comparifon (lands not on an equal foot, any mc 
than the di6lion of Ennius and Ovid ; or of Chauc 
and our prefent Englifti. The words are given up 
a poft not to be defended in our poet, becaufe he war 
ed the modern art of fortifying. The thoughts rema 
to be confidered : and they are to be meafured only 
their propriety j that is, as they flow more or lefs n 
turally from the perfons defcribed, on fuch and fu 
occafions. The vulgar judges, which are nine parts 
ten of all nations, who call conceits and jingles w 
who fee Ovid full of them, and Chaucer altogetl 
without them, will think me little lefs than mad, i 
preferring the Engliihman to the Roman ; yet, w 
7 th 



PREFACE. 15 

their leave, I muft prefumc to fay, that the things they 
admire, are i^ot only glittering trifles, and fo far from 
being witty, that in a ferious poem they are naufeous, 
becaafe they are unnatural. Would any man, who is 
ready to die for love, defcribehis pafTion like Narciffus? 
Would he think of " inopem me copia fecit," and a 
dozen more of fuch expreflions, poured on the neck of 
one another, and fignifying all the fame thing ? If this 
were wit, was this a time to be witty, when the poor 
wretch was in the agony of death ! This is juft John Lit- 
tlewit in Bartholemew Fair, who had a conceit (as he 
tells you) left him in his miferyj a miferable conceit. 
On thcfe occafions the poet ihould endeavour to ralfe 
pity : but, inftead of this, Ovid is tickling you to laugh. 
Virgil never made ufe of fuch machines, when he was 
moving you to commiffjrate the death of Dido : he 
would not deflroy what he was building. Chaucer 
makes Arcitc violent in his love, and unjuft in the pur- 
fuit of it : yet when he came to die, he made him think 
more reafonably : he repents not of his love, for that 
had altered his character ; but acknowledges the in- 
jttftice of his proceedings, and refigns Emilia to Pala- 
mon. What would Ovid have done on this occafion ^ 
He would certainly have made Arcite witty on his. 
death-bed. He had complained he was farther off from 
poffeflion, by being fo near, and a thoufand fuch 
boyifms, which ChaucJer reje£led as below the dignity 
of the fubjeft. They, who think otherwife, would by 
the fame reafon prefer Lucan and Ovid to Homer and 
■Virgil, and Martial to all four of them. As for the 
# turn 



i6 PREFACE. 

tum of words, in which Ovid pnrticularly excels all 
poets; they are fomeiimes a fiult, and fometimes a 
beauty, as they nre ufed properly or improperly ; but in 
ftrongr pjiHons always to be (hunneJ, becauie pafTtons 
are fericus, and will ad.nit no playing. The French 
have a high value for them j and I confeD, they 
are often what they call delicate, v/hen they are intro- 
duced with Judir-Tieiit 5 but Ch'ucer writ with more 
fimplicity, and followed nature more clofely, than to 
ufe theiTi. I have thus hr, to the bed of roy know- 
ledge, been an upright judge betwixt the parties hi 
competition, not meddling with the defign nor the dif- 
fofition of it ; bccaufe the defign was not their own } 
and in the difpofiMg of it they were enud. It remains 
that I fay fomtwhat of Chaucer in particular. 

In thefirft place, as he is ilic father of Englifh poetry, 
fo I hold him in the fame degree of venei-ation as the 
Grecians held Homer, or the Romans Virgil : he is a 
perpetual fountain of go;-d fenfe j learned in all fci^nces; 
and therefore fpeaks propi-rly on all fubjefts : 28 he 
knew what to fay, Co he knows alio when to leave oflFj 
a continence w'lich is praciifed by few writers, and 
fcarcely by any cf tlie ancients, excepting Virgil and 
Horace. One of our late great poets is funk in his 
reputation, "becaufc he could never forgive any conceit 
which came in his way j but fwept like a drag-net» 
great and fmall. There was plenty enough, but the 
diflies were ill-forted ; whole pyramids of fweet-meals> 
for boys and women ; but little of folid me"t, for men s 
all tills proceeded not from aiiy want of knowledge. 



PREFACE. 2r 

hut of jodgmcnt ; neither did he want that in dlfccrn- 
ing the beauties and faults of other poets ; hut only 
indulged bimfelf in the luxury of writing; and perhaps 
knew it was a fault, hut hoped the reader would not 
find it. For this reafon, though he muft always be 
thotight a great poet, he is no- longer efteemed a »rood 
writer: and for ten imprdnons, which his works have 
kad in fo many foccefFive years, yet at prefent a hun- 
dred books are fcarcely purchafed once a twelvemonth ; 
for, as n»y laft lord Rocheftcr fald, though fontwwbat 
profanely, Not being of God, he could not (land. 

Chaucer followed nature every where ; but was nc- 
Ycr fo boM to go beyond her : and there is a great dif- 
ference of being Poeta and nimis Poeta, if we believe 
Catullus, as much as betwixt a modeft behaviour and 
afitf^ation. The verfe of Chaucer, I confefs, is not 
harmonious to us j hut it is like the eloquence of one 
whom Tacitus cor mends, it was ** auribns iftius tem- 
** poris accommodata:" they who lived with him, an({ 
ibme time after him, thought it mufical ; and it conti- 
nues fo even in our judgment, if compared with the 
numbers of Lidgate and Gower, his contemporaries t 
there is the rude fwcetnefs of a Scotch tune in it, which 
is natural and pleafing, though not peif-cl. It is true, 
I cannot go fo far as he who publllhed the laft edition oF 
him 5 for he would makeus believe the fault is in our ears,. 
and that- there were really ten fyllablcs in a verfe where 
we find but nine : but this opinion is not worth confuting^ 
it is fo grofs and obvious an error, that common fenfe 
(which i» a rule in every thing but matters- of faith 
• and 



aS 



PREFACE. 



and revelation) muft convince the reader, that 

of numbers in every verfe, which we call Here 

either not knawn, or not always pi-a^llfed in C 

age. It were an eafy matter to produce fome th 

of his verfes, which are lame for want of half 

and fometimes a whole one, and which no pre 

tion can make otherwire. We can only fay, 

lived in the infancy of our poetry, and that nc 

brought to perfeftion at the fird. We muft be 

before we grow men. There was aii Ennius, an< 

cefs of timeaLucilius, andaLucretius, before V 

Horace } even after Chaucer there was a Spcnfer 

rington, a Fairfax, before Waller and Denham 

being : and our numbers were in their nonage 

laft appeared. Ineed fay little of his paren^ge, 

fortunes : they are to be found at large in all 

tions of his works. He was employed abrc 

favoured by Edward the Third, Richard 

cond, and Henry the Fourth, and was poet, ; 

}K>fe, to all three of them. In Ricliard's time, 

he was a little dipt in the rebellion of the co 

and being brother-in-law to John of Graimt, i 

wonder if he followed the fortunes of that fam: 

vas well with Henry the Fourth when he had 

Lis prcdeceflbr. Neither is it to be admired, tha 

^ho was a wife as well as a valiant prince, wh* 

edby fucceflion, and was fenfible that his title 

£ ondy but was rightfully in Mortimer, who 1 

ricd the heir of York 5 it was not to be admire 

ii that great polltkiun flu>uld be plc-aled to 



PREFACE. 19 

gpeateft wit of thofe times in his intereft^, and to be the 
trumpet of his praifes. Auguftus had given him the 
-example, by the advice of Maecenas, who recommended 
Virgil and Horace to him; whofe praifes helped to 
make him popular while he was alive, and after his 
death have made him precious to pofterity. As for the 
religion of our poet, he feems to have Tome little bias 
towards the opinions of WicklifF, after John of Gaunt 
his patron j fomcwhat of which appears in the tale of 
Piers Plowman : yet I cannot blame him for inveigh- 
ing fo /harply againll the vices of the clergy in his age : 
their pride, their ambition, their pomp, their avarice, 
their worldly intereft, deferved the laflies which he gave 
them, both in that, and in mod of his Canterbury 
tales: neither has his contemporary Boccace fpared 
them. Yet both thofe poets lived in much efteem with 
good and holy men in orders : for the fcandal which is 
given by particular priefts, reflc6ls not on the facred 
^6lion. Chaucer's Monk, his Chanon, and his Fryer, 
took, not from the charaQer of his Good Paifon. A 
fatyrical poet is the check of the laymen, on bad priefts. 
We are only to take care, that we involve not the inno- 
cent with the guiky in the fame condemnation. The 
good cannot be too much honoured, nor the bad too 
coarfely ufed : for the corruption of the beft becomes the 
worft. When a clergyman is whipped, his gown is firft 
taken off, by which the dignity of his order is fecured : if 
he be wrongfully accufed, he has his aflion of flander ; 
and it is at the poet's peril, if he tranfgrefsthelaw. But 
i&ey will tdl us, that all kind of fatire^ though never 



y> 



PREFACE. 



fb well deferved by particular priefts, yet brings tliC 
whole order into contempt. Is tlien the peerage of 
"Enj^land any thing difhononied, when a peer AfflTert 
fcr his trcafon ? If he be libeled, or any way defamed'^ 
he has his *' Scr^ndalum Mngnatum" to pnnifli the of- 
•fender. They, who u*c this kind of argument, feem 
to be confcious to themfelves of fomewhat which hat 
^deferved tV.e pc^ei's lafli $ and are lefs concerned for 
their public cnpnciry, than for their private; at leaft 
there is pride at the bottom of their reafoniug. If the 
Jaults of men in orders are only to be judged among 
themTe'ves, they are all in f )me fort parties : for, fincc 
they fay the honour of their order is concerned in evciy 
member of it, how can we be fure, that they will be 
impartial jt^dge.-? How far I may be allowed to fpeak 
my opinion in this cafe, I know not: but I am fure a 
difpute of this nature caufed mifchiefin.abundancc.be- 
twixta king of England and an archblftiop of Canter^ 
bury ; one Handing up for the Laws of his land, and 
the other for the honour (as he called it) of God*! 
Church J which ended in the murther of the prelate, 
and in the whipping df his majefty -from poft to pillar 
for his penance. The learned and ingenious Dr. Drake 
has favcd rae the labour of inquiriing into the efteem 
and reverence which the priefts have had of old ; and 
I would rather extend than diminrfh any part of it 5 
yet I muft needs Tay, that when a prieft provokes me 
without any occafion iven him, I have no reafony 
unlefs it he tlie charity of a Chriftian, to forgive him. 
** Prior laefit** k juftification fufficient in the Civil Law. 

7 If 



PREFACE. 3t 

( anfwer him in his own language) felf-defcnc«, I 
Cure, muft be allowed tne ; and if I carry it far- 
r, even to a (harp recrimination, fomewhat may bo 
alged to human frailty. Yet my refcntment ha* 
wrought fo far, but that I have followed Chauccf 
lis chara£ler of a holy man, and liave enlarged on 
t fiibje6l with fome pleafure, referving to mylt-lf 
right, if I ftiall think fit hereafter, to defcribe ano- 
r Cart of prietU, fuch as are more eafily to be found 
n the good parfon ; fuch as have given the laft 
w to Chriftianity in this age, by a practice fo con- 
y to their do£lrine. But this will keep cold till 
thcr time. In the mean while, I take up Chaucer 
are I left him. He muft have been a man of a moft 
iderful comprehenfive nature, becaufc, as it hat 
D truly obferved of him, he has taken into thecom- 
I of his Canterbury tales the various manners and 
nours (a« we now call them) of the whole Engliflj^ 
ioOy in his age. Not a fingle chara^er has efcaped 
• All his pilgrims are feverally diftinguiflied fronr 
I other ; and not only in their inclinations, but in 
r very phyfiognomies and peribns. Baptifta Porm^ 
Id not have defcribed their natures better, than \yf 
marks which the poet gives them. The matter and 
iner of their tales, and of their telling, are fo fuited 
heir different educations, humours, and callings, that 
I jof them would be improper in any other mouth. 
n the grave and ferious characters are diftingui(hed 
their feveral ibrts of gravity: their diibourfes are- 
I at belong to their age, their calling, and thetr' 

breeding | 



ji PREFACE. 

l>reeding ; fuch as are becoming of them, and of tl 
only. Some of his perfons are vicious, and foroe ^ 
tuous J feme are unlearned, or (as Chaucer calls the 
lewd, and feme are learned. Even the ribaldry of 
low charafters is different : the Reeve, the Miller^ ; 
the Cook, are feveral men, and diflinguifhed fi 
each other, as much as tlie mincing la<iy priorefs, ; 
the broad -rpcaking gap-toothed wife of Bath, 
enough of this : there is fuch a variety of game fpri 
ing up before me, that I am diftra6ied in my cho 
and know not which to follow. It is fufficient to ] 
according to the proverb, that here is God's plei 
"We have our fore-fathers and great grand -dames 
before us, as they were in Chaucer's days j their ge 
ral characters are ftill remaining in mankind, and e 
in England,, though they are called by other names t 
thofe of Monks and Friars, and Chanons, and I 
AbVicfles, and Nuns : for mankind is ever the fa; 
and nothing loft out of nature, though eveiy thin| 
altered. May I have leave to do myfelf the jufl. 
•(fince my enemies will do me none, and are fo far fr 
granting me to be a good poet, that they will not all 
nie fo much as to be a Chriftian, or a moral man) ; n 
I have leave, I fay, to inform my reader, that I h 
confined my choice to fuch tales of Chaucer as fav 
nothing of immodefty. If I had defired more to pie 
than to inftrufl, the Reeve, the Miller, the Shipm 
the Merchants, the Sumner, and, above all, the W 
of Bath, in the prologue to her tale, would have p 
cured me as many friends and readers^ as tliere 

be: 



{ 

f 

PREFACE. 3S 

I beaux and ladies of pleafure in the town. But I will 

I no more offend againft good-manners : I am fenHble^ as 
I ought to be, of the fcandal I have given by my loofe 
writings ; and make what repai*ation I am ahle> by this 
public acknowledgment. If any thing of this nature, 
or of profanenefs, be crept into thefe poems, I am fo far 
from defending it, that I difown it. " Totum hoc in- 

, didum yolo.** Chaucer makes another manner of apo- 
logy for his broad-fpeaking, and Boccace makes the 
like 5 but I will follow neither of them. Our country- 

I man, in the end of his chara6lcrs, before the Canter- 
bury tales, thus excufes the ribaldry, which is very 
grofs in many of his novels. 

But firft, I pray you of your courtefy. 
That ye ne arrettee it nought my villany. 
Though that I plainly fpeak in this mattere 
To tellen you her words, and eke her chere & 
Ne though I fpeak her words properly. 
For this ye knowen as well as I, 
Who fhall tellen a tale after a man. 
He mote rehearfe as nye, as ever he can : 
Everich word of it been in his charge, 
AU ipeke he, never fo rudely, ne large. 
. Or elfe he mote tellen his tale untrue. 
Or feine things, or find words new : 
He may not fpare, although he were his brother. 
He mote as well fay o word as another. 
Chrift fpake himfelf full broad in holy writ. 
And well I wote no villany is it. 
Vol. III. D Eke 



34 PREFACE. 

Eke Plato faith, who fo can him rede. 
The words mote been couHn to the dede. 

Yet if a man fhould have inquired of Bocc 
Chaucer, what need they had of introducing f 
ra£lers, where obfcene words were proper in theii 
but very indecent to be heard j I know not > 
fwer they could have made : for that reafbn, i 
ftall be left untold by me. You have here a 
of Chaucer's language, which is fo obfolete, 
fcnfc is fcarce tabe underftood; and yoti have 
more than one example of his unequal number 
were mentioned before. Yet many of his verl 
of ten fyllables, and the words not much be 
prefent Englifh : as for example, thefe two lin 
defcription of the carpenter's young wife : 
Wincing ihe was, as is a jolly colt. 
Long as a maft, and upright as a bolt. 

I have almoft done with Chaucer, when I 
fwered (bme objeftions relating to my prefent ^ 
find fome people are offended that I have ton 
tales into modern Englifh ; becaufe they thi 
unworthy of my pains, and look on Chaucer 
oId-fa(hioned wit, not worth reviving. I ha 
heard the late earl of Leiceftcr fay, that Mr 
hirafelf was of that opinion j who, having r 
over at my lord's requeft, declared he had n 
him. I dare not advance my opinion againft t 
mcnt of fo great an author : but I think it fa 
ever, to leave the dccifion t» the public ; Mr. 



PREFACE. 35 

modeft to fet up for a di6lator$ and being 
>erhaps with his old ftile, never examined into 
. of his good fenfe. Chaucer, I confefs, is a 
imond, and muft firft be polilhed, ere he fhines. 
Dt likcwife, that, living in our early days of 
3e writes not always of a piece : but fometimes 
trivial things with thofe of greater moment* 
es alfo, though not often, he runs riot, like 
d" knows not when he has faid enough. But 

more great wits befides Chaucer, whofe fault 
jccefs of conceits, and thofe ill forted. An au- 
ot to write all he can, but only all he ought, 
jbferved this redundancy in Chaucer (as it is 
natter for a man of ordinary parts to find a 
ne of greater), I have not tied myfelf to a literal 
►n i but have often omitted what I judged un- 
, or not of dignity enough to appear in the 

of better thoughts. I have prefumed farther, 
places, and added fomewhat of my own where I 
my author was deficient, and had not given his 
i their true luftre, for want of words in the be- 
of our language. And to this I was the more 
ncd, becaufe (if I may be permitted to fay it of 
I found I had a foul congenial to his, and that 
:en converfant in the fame ftudies. Another 
another age, may take the fame liberty with my 
} if at leaft they live long enough to deferve 
n. It was alfo neceffary fometimes to reftore 

of Chaucer, which was loft or mangled in the 

' the prefs < let this example fufiice at prefent ; 

D z in 



3S PREFACE. 

may be partial to inyfelf ; let the reader judge, and t 
fubmit to his decifion. Yet I think I have juft occa- 
fion to complain of them, who, bccaufe they underftand 
Chaucer, would deprive the greater part of their coun- 
trymen of the fame advantage, and hoard him up, as 
mifers do their grandam gold, only to look on it them- 
fe^ves, and hinder others from making ufe of it. In 
fum, I ferioufly proteft, that no man ever had, or can 
have, a greater veneration for Chaucer, than rayfelf. I 
have tranflated fome part of his works, only that I 
might perpetuate his memory, or at leaft refreih it, 
amongft my countrymen. If I have altered him any 
where for the better, I muft at the fame time acknow- 
ledge, that I could have done nothing without him : 
" Facile eft ifjventis addere," is no great commenda- 
tion ; and I am not fo vain to think I have deferved a 
greater. I will conclude what I have to fay of him 
fingly, with this one remark : a lady of my acquain- 
tance, who keeps a kii)d of correfpondence with fome 
authors of the fair fex in France, has been informed by 
them, that Mademoifelle de Scudery, who is as old as 
Sibyl, and infpired like her by the fame god of poetry, 
is at this time tranflating Chaucer into modern French. 
From which I gather, that he has been formerly tranf- 
iated into the old Provencal (for how /he ihould come 
to underftand old Englifli I know not). But the mat- 
ter of fa£b being true, it makes me think that there ift 
' fomething in it like fatality ; that, after certain periods 
of time, the fame and memory of great wits ihould be 
renewed, as Chaucer is both in Fx'ance and England. If 
I this 



PREFACE. 39 

this be wholly chance, it is extraordinary, and I dare' not 
call it jnore^ for fear of being taxed with fuperftition. 

Boccace comes laft to be confidered, who, living in 
the fame age with Chaucer, had the fame genius, and 
followed the fame (hidies t both writ novels, and each 
of them cultivated his mother tongue. But the greatefl: 
refembJance of our two modern authors being in their 
familiar flile, and pleaiing way of relating comical ad- 
ventures, I may pafs it over, becaufe I have tranflated 
nothing from Boccace of that nature. In the feriou* 
part of poetry, the advantage is wholly on Chaucer's 
fide ; for though the Englifhman has borrowed many 
tales from the Italian, yet it appears tliat thofe of Boc- 
cace were not generally of his own making, but taken 
from authors of former ages, and by him only model- 
led : fo that what there was of invention in either of 
them, may be judged equal. But Chaucer has refined 
on Boccace, and has mended the ilories which he has 
bon'owed, in his way of telling ; though profe allows 
more liberty of thought, and the expreffion is more eafy 
when unconfined by numbers. Our countryman carries 
weight, and yet wins the race at difadvantage. I de- 
firc not the reader fhould take my word : and thcrefoi*e 
I will fet two of their difcourfes on the fame fubje^l, in 
the fame light, for every man to judge betwixt them. 
I tranflated Chaucer firft, and, amongll the refl, pitched 
on the Wife of Bath's tale ; not daring, as I have faid, 
to adventure on her prologue, becaufe it is too licen- 
tious : there Chaucer introduces an old woman of mean 
parentage, whom a youthful knight of noble blood was 
D 4. forced 



40 PREFACE. 

forced to marry, and confcqucntly loathed her: t1 
crone being in bed with him on the wedding-nigh 
and finding his averfion, endeavours to win his afFe< 
tion by reafon, and fpeaks a good word for herfelf, (; 
who could blame her ?) in hope to mollify the full( 
bridegroom. She takes her topics from the benefits t 
poverty, the advantages of old age and uglinefs, tl 
vanity of youth, and the filly pride of anceftiy ac 
titles without inherent virtue, which is the true nob 
lity. When I had clofed Chaucer, I returned to Ovi< 
and tranflated fome more of his fables j and by ih 
time had Co far forgotten the wife of BatVs tale, tha 
when I took up Boccace, unawares I fell on the fan; 
argument of preferring virtue to nobility of blood, an 
titles, in the ftory of Sigiimunda ; which I had cei 
tainly avoided for the refemblance of the two dii 
courfes, if my memory had not failed me. Let th 
reader weigh them both j and if he thinks me partic 
to Chaucer, it is in him to right Boccace, 

I prefer in our countryman, far above all his othe 
ftories, the noble poem of Palamon and Arcitc, whici 
is of the Epic kind, and perhaps not much inferio 
to the Ilias or the .ffincis : the ftory is more pleafinj 
than either of them, the manners as perfe6l, the die 
tion as poetical, the learning as deep and various 
and the difpofition full as artful ; only it includes : 
greater length of time, as taking up fevcn years a 
leaft ; but Aiiftotle has left undecided the duration o: 
the a£lion ; which yet is eafily reduced into the com- 
pafs of a year, by a narration of what preceded the re- 

turr 



PREFACE. 4.t 

turn of Palanion to Athens. I had thought for the 
honour of our nation, and more particularly for his, 
whofe lam-el, though upworthy, I have worn after higi, 
that this ftory was of Englifh growth, and Chaucer''s 
own ; but I was undeceived by Boccace 5 for cafuaUy 
looking on the end of his feventh Giomata, I found 
Dioneo (under which name he fhadows himfelf) and 
Jiametta (who reprefents his miftrefs the natural daugh- 
ter of Robert king of Naples) of whom thefe words 
arc fpoken, " Dioneo e la Fiametta granpezza conta- 
" rono infieme d' Arcita, e di Palamone i" by which it 
appears that this ftory was written before the time of 
Boccace 5 but the name of its author being wholly loft, 
Chaucer is now become an original j and I qucftion 
not but the poem has received many beauties by pafHng 
through his noble hands. Befides this tale, there is 
another of his own invention, after the manner of the 
Proven9ais, called The Flower and the Leaf; with 
which I was £0 particularly pleafed, both for the inven- 
tion and the moral, that I cannot hinder rayfelf from 
ecommending it to the reader. 

As a corollary to this preface, in which I have done 
uftice to others, I owe fomewhat to myfelf : not that 
; think it worth ray time to enter the lifts with one 
Vlilbourn, and one Blackmore, but barely to take notice, 
hat fuch men there are who have written fcurriloufly 
gainft: me, without any provocation. Milbourn,who is in 
)rders, pretends amongft the reft this quarrel to me, 
hat I have fallen foul on priefthood : if I have, I am 
•nly to aik pardon of good priefts, and am afraid his 

pait 



4« PREFACE. 

part of the reparation will come to little. Let him be 
fatisfied thathe (hall not be able to force himfelf upon 
me for an adverfary, I contemn him too much to en- 
ter into competition with him. His own trandations 
of Virgil have anfwered his criticifms on mine. If (as 
they fay, he has declared in print) he prefers the ver- 
fion of Ogilby to mine, the world has made him the 
fame compliment : for it is agreed on all hands, that he 
writes even below Ogilby : that, you will fay, is not 
«aiily to be done j but what cannot Milbourn bring 
about ? I am fatisfied however, that while he and I live 
together, I fliall not be thought the worft poet of the 
age. It looks as if I had defired him imderhand to 
vrrite fo ill againfl: me : but upon my honefl word I 
have not bribed him to do me this fervice, and am 
wholly guiltlefs of his pamphlet. It is true, I /hould 
"be glad, if I could perfuade him to continue his good 
offices, and write fuch another critique on any thing of 
mine : for I find by experience he has a great ftroke 
with the reader, when he condemns any of my poems, 
to make the world have a better opinion of them. He 
has taken fome pains with my poetry; but nobody 
will be perfuaded to take the feme with his. If I had 
taken to the church (as he affirms, but which was never 
in my thoughts) I (hould have had more fenfe, if not 
more grace, than to have turned myfelf oyt of my be- 
nefice by writing libels on my pariffiioners. But his 
^ account of my manners and my principles, are of a 
piece with his cavils and his poetry : and fo I have done 
with him for ever. 

As 



PREFACE. 45 

As for the City Baid, or Knight Phyficlan, I hear his 
quarrel to me is, that I was the author of Abfalom and 
Achitophe], which he thinks is a little hard on his fa- 
natic patrons in London. 

But I will deal the more civilly with his two poems, 
becaufe nothing ill is to be fpoken of the dead : and 
therefore peace Ije to the Manes of his Arthurs. I will 
only fay, that it was not for this noble knight that I 
drew the plan of an Epic poem on king Arthur, in my 
preface to the tranflation of Juvenal. The guardian 
angrels of kingdoms were machines too ponderous for 
bim to manage j and therefore he rejected them, as 
Dares did the whirlbats of Eryx, when they were 
thrown before him by Entellus. Yet from that preface 
he plainly took his hint : for he began immediately 
upon the ftory ; though he had the bafenefs not to ac- 
knowledge his benefactor ; but inftead of it, to traduce 
me in a libel. 

I (hall fay the lefs of Mr Collier, becaufe in many 
things he has taxed me juftly ; and I have pleaded 
guilty to all thoughts and expreiiions of mine, which 
can be truly argued of obfcenity, profancnefs, or im- 
morality ; and retraft them. If he be my enemy, let 
him triumph j if he be my friend, as I have given him 
no perfonal occafion to be otherwife, he will be glad of 
my repentance. It becomes me not to draw my pen in 
the defence of a bad caufe, when I have fo often drawn it 
for a good one. Yet it were not difficult to prove, that 
in many places he has perverted my meaning by his 
glofles I and interpreted my words into bllfphemy and 

baudry. 



i 



44 PREFACE, 

baudry, of which they were not guilty j befides that I: 
is too much given to horfe-play in his raillery 5 an 
comes to battle like a diftator from the plough. I wij 
not fay, The zeal of God's houfe has eaten him up 
but I am fure it has devoured fome part of his goo<i 
manners and civility. It might alfo be doubted whe 
thcr it wpre altogether zeal, which prompted him to thi 
rough manner of proceeding ; perhap's it became nc 
one of his funftion to rake into the rubbifti of ancier 
and modern plays j a divine might have employed hi 
pains to better purpofe, than in the naftinefs of Plauti; 
and Ariftophanes j whofc examples, as theyexcufenotmi 
fo it might be pofTibly fuppofed, that he read them nc 
without fome pleafure. They who have written com 
mentaries on thofe poets, or on Horace, Juvenal, an 
Martial, have explained fome vices, which without thei 
interpretation hafd been unknown to modern times 
Neither has he judged impartially betwixt the forme 
age and us. 

There is more baudry in one Play of Fletcher's, cal 
led The Cuftom of the Country, than in all ours toge 
ther. Yet this has been often a6led on the ftage in m 
remembrance. Are the times fo mucb more reforms 
now, than they were five and twenty years ago ? I 
they arc, I congratulate the amendment of our morals 
But I am not to prejudice the caufe of my fellow-poets 
though I abandon my own defence : they have fome o 
them anfwered for themfelves, and neither they nor 
can think Mr. Collier fo formidable an enemy, that w 
ih^uld fhun J^m. He has loft ground at the lattor en< 



PREFACE. 45 

of the day^ by purfuing his point too far, like the 
prince of Conde at the battle of Senneph : from immo- 
ral playSy to no plays ; ** ab abufu ad ufum, non valet 
" confequentia." But being a party, I am not to ereft 
myfelf into a judge. As for the reft of thofe who have 
written againft me, they are fuch fcoundrels, that they 
deferve not the leaft notice to be taken of them. Black- 
more and Milboum are only diftinguifhed from the 
crowd, by being remembered to their infamy. 

" Demetri, Teque Tigelli 

** Difcipulorum inter jubeo plorare cathedras/* 



TALES 



TALE S 



FROM 



H A U C E R. 



t 49 ] ' 

To her Grace 
The Dutchess qF Ormond, 

With the following P o E M of 
PALAMON AND ARCITE. 

M A D A M» 

'T^ H E bard who firft adornM our native tongue^ 
•■' Tun'd to his Britiih lyre this ancient fong ; 
Which Homer might without a blufti rehearfc, 
And leaves a doubtful palm in VirgH's verfe : 
He matchM their beauties, where they moft excel ; 
Of love fung better, and of arms as well. 

Vouchfafe, illuilrious Onnond, to behold 
What power the. charms of beauty had of old ; 
Nor wonder if fuch deeds of arms were done, ^ 

InipirM by two fair eyes that fparkled like your own* 

If Chaucer by the beft idea wrought. 
And ]¥>ct8 can divine each other^s thought. 
The faireft nymph before his eyes he fet ; 
And then the faireft was Plantagenet $ 
Who three contending princes made tlieir prize. 
And rulM the rival nations with her eyes : 
Who left imfnortal trophies of her fame, 
A0d to the nobleft order gave the name. 

Like 'her, of equal kindred to the throne. 
You keep her copquefls, and extend your own : 

. YOL. m. E As 



50 DRYD EN'S POEMS. 

As when the ftars in their etherial race, 

At lengtii have roWd around the liquid fpace. 

At certain periods they refume their place. 

From the fame point of lieaven their courfe advance 

And mdve in meafures of their former dance j 

Thus, after length of ages, fhe returns, 

Reftor'd in you, and the (kme place adorns | 

Or you perform her office in the fphere, 

iBorn of her blood, and make a new platonic year. 

O ti^e Plantagenet, O race divine, 

{For beauty ftill is fatal to the line,) 

Had Chaucer liv'd that angel-face to view. 

Sure he had drawn his Emily from you ; 

Or had you livM to judge the doubtful right. 

Your noble Palamon had been the knight ; 

And conquering Thefeus from his fide had ftnt 

Your generous lord, to guide the Theban goverjomeot 

Time (hall accomplish thatj and I Aiall fee 

A Palamon in him, in you an Emily. 

Already have the Fate« your path prepared. 

And fure prefage your future fway declared : 

When weftward, lik« the fun, you took yo«r way« 

And from benighted Britain bore the day. 

Blue Triton gave the iignal from the Chore, 

The ready Nereids heard, and fwam before 

To finooth the fta« 9 a foft Etefian gale 

But juft.infpir'd, and gently (welPd the fail; 

Portunus took his turn, whofe ample hand 

HeavM up his lightened keel, and funk the fand. 

And fteerM die facred Teflel C^h to land. 

Th 



THE DUTCHESS OF ORMOND. 51 

nd, if not reftrain'd, had met your way, 
ed out a neck, and jutted to the Tea. 
ia, proftrate at your feet, ador'd 

I the pledge of her expelled lord ; 

her ifle ; a venerable name ; « 

her and his grandiire known to fame ; 
)y that houfe, accuftom^d to command, ^ 

irdy Kerns in due fubjeflion ftand ; V 

ar the reins in any foreign hand. 3 

r approach, they crouded to the port j 
carcely landed, you create a court : 
nond*8 harbinger, to you they run ; 
nus is the promife of the fun. 
ifte of civil wars, their towns deftroy'd, 
nhonourM, Ceres unemployed, 

II forgot i and one triumphant day 
all the tears of three campaigns away, 
rapines, maifacres, were cheaply bought, 
ity recompence yoiir beauty brought. 

in the dove returning bore the mark 
1 reftor'd to the long labouring ark, 
icks of mankind, fecure of reft, 
very window to receive the gueft, 
5 fair bearer of the mcflage blefs'd ; 
■n you came, with loud repeated cries, 
Jon took an omen from your eyes, 
xl advancM his rainbow in the ikies, 
inviolable peace reftorM ; 
Its with folemn fhouts proclaimed the ne>y accord, 
£ a Whea 






5» DRYDEN'S POEMS. 

When ^t your fccond coming yqu appear, 
(For I foretel that millenary year) 
The fharpenM fliare ihall vex the foil no more. 
But earth unbidden (hall produce her (lore ; 
Tne land (liall laugh, the circling ocean frailc. 
And heaven''^ indulgence blefs the holy ifle. 
Heaven from all ages has re(ervM for you 
Tl^t happy clime, which venom never knew 5 
Or if it had been there, your eyes alone 
Have power to chafe all poifon, but their own. 

Now in this interval, which fate has caft 
Betwixt your future glories and your pad. 
This paufe of power, 'tis Ireland's hour to mourn 5 
While England celebrates your fafe return. 
By which you feeip fhe feafons to command, 
And bring our fummers back to their forfaken lant 

The vanqurih'd ifle our leifure muft attend. 
Till the fittc hUKm^ we vouchfafe to fend j 
Nor can we fpare you long, though often we may kn< 
The dove was twice cmployM abroad, before 
The world wad dry'd, and fhe returned no more« 

Hpr dare we truft fo foft a meflfenger, 
Ne>r from her ficknefs, to that northern air ; 
Reft here a while your luftre to reftore. 
That they may fee you, as you (hone before 5 
Fof -yet, th' eclipfe not wholly paft, you wade 
Thipough fome remains, and dimnefs of a (hade, 

A fubjedl in his prince may claim a right, 
^ifr QifEsr him with firengtb impaired to fight ; 



TO THE DUTCHESS OF ORMOND. 5.3. 
XUl force returns, his ardor we redraiiiy 
And airb his warlike wi(h to crofs the raain* 

. Now paft the clanger, let the learn \i begin 
TTi' inquiiy, where ilifeafe could enter in ^ 
How thofc malignant atoms fcrc'd their way,^ 
What in the faultlefs fiarae they foiwid to make their 

prey? 
\Vherc every element was weighed Co well. 
That heaven alone, who mixM the mafs, conid tell 
Which of the four ingredients could rebel j. 
And where, impriCbn'd in fo fweet a cage, 
A foul might well be pleas'd to pais an age. 

And yet tlie fine materials made it weak : 
Porcelain, by being pure, is apt to break : 
Ev'n to your breaft the fickncls duril afpirej 
And, forcM from that-'fair temple to retire. 
Profanely fet the holy phce on fire* 
In vain your lord like young Vefpailan mourn'd. 
When the fierce flames the faniluary burn'd : 
And I preparM to pay in vcrfes rude 
A moft detailed a^ of gratitude :. 
Kv'n this badticen your ckgyv which now 
Is ofFerY ^ your health, the table of my vow.- 
Your angel fure our Morley's mind infpirM, 
To find the remedy your ill required j. 
As once the Macedoji, by Jove's decree,. 
Was taught to dream, an herb for Ptolomee : 
Or heaven, which ha<l fuch over-coft beftowM, 
As fcarce.it could afford to ftrflT and blood,. 
So lik'd the frame, he would not work anew,, 
To fave the charges of another you. 

E 3 Or 



54 DRYDEN*S POEMS. 

Or by his middle fcience did he ftccr. 

And faw fonic great contingent good appear 

Well worth a miracle to keep you here : 

And for that end, preferv'd the precious mould. 

Which all the future Ormonds was to hold j 

And meditated in his better mind 

An heir fiom you, which may redeem the failing k 

Bleft be the power which has at once reftor'd 
The hopes of loft fucccffion to your lord, 
Joy to the firft and laft of each degree. 
Virtue to courts, and, what I long'd to fee. 
To you the Graces, and the Mufe to me. 
O daughter of the rofe, whofe cheeks unite 
The differing titles of the red and white ; 
Who heaven''s alternate beauty well difplay. 
The blufh of morning and the milky way ; 
Whofe face is paradife, but fenc'd from fin i 
For God in cither eye has placed a cherubin. 

All is your lord's alone ; ev*n abfent, he 
Employs the care of chafte Penelope. 
For him you wafte in tears your widowM hours^ 
For him your curious needle paints the flowers ; 
Such works of old Imperial dames were taught j 
Such, for Afcanius, fair Elifa wrought. 
The foft receflfes of your hours improve 
The three fair pledges of your happy love j 
All other parts of pious duty done, 
You owe your Ormond nothing but a fon i 
To fill in future times his father's place. 
And wear the garter of his mother's race. 

PAI 



[ 55 } 

ILAMON AND ARCITE: 

o R, 
The KNIGHT'S TALE, 

BOOK I. 

ys of old, there livM, of mighty fame, 

aliant prince^ and Thefeus was his name : 

' who more in feats of ai'ms e&ceird, 

ing nor the fetting fun beheld. 

ens he was lord ^ much land he won, 

ded foreign countries to his crown. 

hia with the warrior queen he ftrove, 

firft by force he conquered, then by love 5 

ight in triumph back the beauteous dame, 

'horn her fifter» fair Emilia^ came. 

onour to his home let Thefeus ride, 

>ve to friend, and fortune for his guide, 

s vi6lorious army at his fide. 

heir warlike pomp, their proud array, 

louts, their fongs, their welcome on the way 

sre it not too long, I would recite 

ts of Amazons, the fatal fight 

: the hardy queen and hero knight j 

ivn befieg''d, and how much blood it coft 

sale army and th' Athenian hoft i 

ufals of Hippolita the queen ; 

Its ami tumeys at the feaft were fecn ^ 

E4 Tbt 



56 DRYDfiN^S i>OEMS. 

The ftorm at their return, the ladies fear : 
But thefe, and other things, I muft forbear. 
The field is fpacious I defign to fow. 
With oxen far unfit to draw the plow : 
The remnant of my tale is of a length 
To tire your patience, and to wafte my ftrength ; 
And trivial accidents (hiU be forborr, 
'J'hat otli..TS may have t m? to take their turn ; 
As wris at firft enjoinM us by mine hoft : 
That he whofe tale is beft, and plcafes moft, 
Shouhi win his fupper at our common coft. 
And thcrrefore where I left, I will purfue 
This ancient 'lory, whether falfe or true. 
In hope it may be mended with a new. 
The prince I mentioned, full of high renown,. 
In this array drew near t\C Athenian town ; 
When in his pomp and utmoft of his pride, 
Marching he chanc'd to caft his eye afidc, 
And law a choir of mourning dames, who lay 
By two and two acrofs the common way : 
At his approach they rais'd a rueful cry, 
And beat their breafts, and held their hands on hig 
Creeping and crA-ing, till they feiz'd at laft 
His courfer's bridle, and his feet embraced. 

Tell me, faid Thefeus, what and whence you ai 
And why this funeral pageant you prepare ? 
Is this the welcome of my worthy deeds, 
To meet my triumph in ill-omen'd weeds ? 
Or envy you my pralfe, and would deftroy 
With grief my pleafures, and pollute my joy ? 



PALAMON AND ARCITE. 57 

Or are you injur'd, and demand relief ? 
Name your requeft, and I will eafe your grief. 
The moft in years of all tiie mourning train 
Began (but fwooned firft away for pain) ^ 
Then fc.irce recovcr'd fpoke : nor envy we 
Thy great renown, nor grudge thy victory ; 
Tis thine, O king, th' afflicted to redrefs. 
And fame has filPd the world with thy fuccefs : 
We wretched women fue for that alone. 
Which of thy goodnefs i» refused to«none ; 
Let fall (bmt drops of pity on our grief, 
If what we beg be juft, and we defer\'e relief t 
For none of us, who now thy grace implore, 
But held the rank of fovereign queen before ; 
Till, thanks to giddy chance, which never bears^. 
That mortal blifs ihould laft for length of years, 
She caft us headlong from our high eftate, 
And here in hope of thy return we wait : 
And long have waited in the temple rvigh. 
Built to the gracious goddefs Clemency. 
But Beverence thou the power whofe name it bears. 
Relieve th* opprefsM, and wipe the widow''s tears,, 
I, wretched I, have other fortune feen, 
The wife of Capaneus, and once a queen : 
At Thebes he fell ; curft be the fatal day ! 
And all the reft thou leeft in this array. 
To make their moan, their brds in battle loft 
Before that town befiegM by our confederate hoft : 
But Creon, old and impioujs, who commands 
The Thebaa^ city, and ufurps the lands. 

Denies 



5l DRYDEN'S POEMS, 

Denies the rites of fuserai Ares to thofe 
Whofe breathlefs bodies ycrt he calls his fo€S* 
Unburn*d, unburyM, on a heap they lie } 
Such is their £at€y and Aich his tyranny ; 
No friend has leave to bear away the dead. 
But with their lifelefs limbs his hounds are fed : 
* At this (he fhriekM aloud ; the mournful train 
EchoM her grief, and, groveling en the plajn> 
With groans, and hands upheld> to move his miiKt> 
Befought his pity to their helplefs kind ! 

The prince was touched, his tears began to fiow^ 
And, as his tender heart yrould break, in two. 
He iigh'd ; and could not but their fate deplore^ 
So wretched new, fo fortunate before. 
Then lightly from his lofty fteed he flew. 
And raifing one by one the fuppliant crew. 
To comfort each, full folemnly he fwore. 
That by the faith which knights to knighthood bore» 
And what e'er elfe to chivalry belongs. 
He would not ceafe, till he revenged their wrongs : 
That Greece (hould fee performed what he declared i 
And cruel Creon find his Juft reward. 
He faid no more, but, (hunning all delay, 
Kode on ; nor entered Athens on his way t 
But left his fifter and his queen behind. 
And wav'd his royal banner in the wind : 
Where in an argent field the god of war 
Was drawn triumphant on his iron car ; 
Red was his fword, and fliield, and whole attire. 
And all the godhead feexn'd to glow with fire } 

7 Ev* 



PALAMON AND ARCITE. 5^ 

Ev'n the ground glittered where the ibndard flew. 

And the green grafs was dyM to fangnine hue. 

High on his pointed lance his pennon bore 

His Cretan iight, the conquerM Minotaure t 

The foldiers (hout around with generous rage. 

And in that viftory their own prefage. 

He praised their ardour ; inly pleasM to fkt 

His hoft the flower of Grecian chivalry. 

All day he marched ; and all th^ enfuing night { 

And faw the city with returning light. 

The procefs of the war I need not tell^ 

How Thefeus conquered, and how Creon fell x 

Or after, how by ftorm the walls were won, 

Or how the vi£lor fackM and burn'd the town t 

How to the ladies he reftorM again 

The bodies of their lords in battle (lain : 

And with what ancient rites they were interred ) 

All thefe to fitter times (hall be defcrrM : 

I fpare the widows tears, their woeful crjes. 

And howling at their hufbands^ obfequie$ j 

Hbw Thefeus at thefe funerals did aflift. 

And with what gifts the mourning dames difmifs^d* 

Thus when the viftor chief had Creon flain, 
And conquered Thebes, he pitched upon the plain 
His mighty camp, and, when the day retum'd. 
The country wafted, and the hamlets bum'd. 
And left the pillagers, to rapine bred. 
Without control to ftrip and fpoil the dead. 

There, in a heap of (lain, among the reft 
Two youthful knif^ts they found beneath a load opprefs^d 

Of 



(o 'DRYDE^N'S POEMS. : 

Of flapghter'd foes, whom firft to death they (entp 
The trophies of their ftrength, a bloody monument- 
Both fair, and both of royal blood tliey feem'd, 
Whom kinfmen to the crown the heralds deem'd ; 
That day ja equal arms they fought for fame j 
Their fwords, their (hields, their furcoats, were the fame- 
Clofe by each other laid, they prefs'd the groined, 
Their manly bofoms pierc'd with many a griefly wound ;» 
Nor well alive, nor whoUy dead they were. 
But fome famt ilgns of feeble life appear : 
The wandering breath. was on tlie wing to part, 
Weak wa6 the pulfe, and hardly heav'd the heart- 
Tbefe two were fifters'* fonsf and Arcite one. 
Much fani'ti in fields, with valiant Paiamon.. 
From thcfe their coftly arms the fpoilers rent,. 
And foftly both conveyM to Thefeiis' tent :. 
Whom Hnown of Creon's- line, and cur'd with care,. 
He to his city fsnt as prifbnerft of the war,. 
Hopelefs of ranfom^ and condemned to lie- 
in durance, doom'd a lingering death to diei 
This done, he march'd away with warlike founds 
And. to his Athens turnM with kurels crown'd^ 
Where happy long he liv'd, much lov'dj and more 

renown 'd. 
But in a tower, and never to be loos-M,. 
The woeful captive kinfmen are inclos'd :. 

Thus year by year they pafs, and day by day,. 
Till once, 'twas on the morn of cheaifAil May, 
The young Emilia, fairer to be feen 
Than the fair lily on the flowery green„ 

More 



1 



PALAMDN AND ARCtfE- 6|' ' 

More frefh than May herfelf in bloflfoms new. 

For with the rofy colour ftrove her hue, 

Wak'd, as her'cuftom was, before the day. 

To do th' obfervance due to fprightly May : 

For fprightly May commands our youth to keep 

The vigils of her night, and breaks their fluggard flecpj ' 

Each gentle breaft with kindly warnith fhe moves } 

Infpires new flames, revives extinguiflf d loves* 

In this remembrance Emily ere day 

Arofe, and drefs'd herfelf in rich array; •. 

Frefli as the month, and as the momrng fair; 

Adown her fhoulders fell her length of hair : 

A ribband did the braided treffes bind. 

The reft was loofe, and wanton'd in the wind } 

Auh)ra had but newly chased the night. 

And purpled o'er the fky with bhifhing light. 

When to the garden walk fhe took her way. 

To fport and tiip along In cool of day, 

And offer maiden vows in honour of the May. 

At every turn, fhe made a little ftand, 
Aiid thruft among the thorns her lily hand 
Toidraw the rofe, and every lt)fe fhe drew 
^he-(hook the flalk, and brufhM away the dew s 
Then parQr-colour*d flowers of white and red 
^he wove, to make & garland for her head : 
This done, fhe fung and carol'd oiit f6 clear. 
That men and angels might rejoice to hear s 
Ev'n wondering Philomel forgot to fingj 
And Xearn'd'from licr to wdcorae-in the fpring. 

The 



1 



6ft DRYDEN'S POEMS, 

The tower, of which before was mention made. 
Within whofe keep the captive knights were laid* 
Built of a large extent, and ftropg withal. 
Was one partition of the palace wall : 
The garden was inclosed within the fquare. 
Where young Emilia took the morning-air* 
It happenM Palamon the prifoner knight, 
Keftlefs for woe, arofe before the light. 
And with his jaylor^s leave defir'd to breathe 
An air more wholefome than the damps beneath. 
This granted, to the tower he took his way, 
Chear^d with the promife of a glorious day : 
Then caft a languiihing regard around. 
And faw with hateful eyes the temples crownM 
,With golden fpires, and all the hoftile ground. 
He figh'd, and tum'd his eyes, becaufe he knew 
'*Twas but a larger gaol he had in view : 
Thin looked below, and from the cattle's height 
Belreld a nearer and more pleating fight : 
The garden, which before he had not feen. 
In fpring's new livery clad of white and green. 
Frefli flowers in wide parterres, and ihady walks 

tween. 

This view'd, but not enjoyM, with arms acroft 
He ftood, reflecting on his country's lois j 
Himfelf an objeA of the public fcom. 
And often wifh'd he never had been bom. 
At lafl, for fo his deftiny required. 
With walking givldj, and with thinking tir'd. 

He 



alks be- C 



PALAMON AND ARCITE. 6 

He through a little window caft his fight. 

Though thick of bars that gave a fcanty light : 

But ev^n that glimmering fervM him to defcry 

Tb* inevitable charms of Emily. 
Scarce had he feen, but, feizM with fudden fmartp 

Stung to the quick, he felt it at his heart ; 

Struck blind with over-powering light he Hood, 

Then darted back amazed, and cryM aloud. 
Young Arcite heard $ and up he ran with hafte» 

To help his friend, and in his arms embraced ; 

And alk*d him why he look*d fo deadly wan. 

And whence and how his change of cheer began ? 

Or who had done th* oiFence ? But if, faid he. 

Your grief alone is hard captivity ; 

For love of heaven, with patience undergo 

A curelefs ill, fince fate will have it fo t 

So ftood our horofcope in chains to lie. 

And Saturn in the dungeon of the iky. 

Or other baleful afped, nil'd our birtfaj 

When all the friendly ftars were under earth t 

Whatever betides, by deftiny ''tis done $ 

And better bear like men, than vainly (eek to ihun^ 

Nor of my bonds, faid Palamon again. 
Nor of unhappy planets I complain | 
But when my mortal angnift causM my cry. 
That moment I was hurt through either eye } 
Pierced with a random ihaft, I faint away. 
And perifh with infenfible decay : 
A glance of fome new goddefs gave the wound. 
Whom, like Afteon, unaware I found. 

Look 



/ 



'^^ DRYDEN'S POEMS. 

Look how ft^e walks along yon (hady fpacc, T 

Not Juno moves* with more majeftic grace j J 

And all th6 Cyprian- queen is in her face. j 

If thou art Venus (for thy charms confefs 

That face was form'd in heaven, nor art thou lefs | 

l^ifguis'd in habit, undifguis'd in (hape) 

O help us captives from our chains to Tcape; 

But if our doom be pad in bonds to lie 

For life, and in a loatlifome dungeon die, 

Then be thy wrath appeas'd with our difgrace. 

And (hew compafHoh to the Theban race, 

Opprpfs'd by tyrant power ! While yet he fpoke, 

Arcitc on EmHy had fix'd his look 5 

The fatal dart a ready paiTage found. 

And deep within his heart infixM the wound : 

•So that if Palamon were wounded fore, 

Arcite was hurt as much as he, or more : 

Then from his inmoft foul he figh'd, and faid. 

The beauty I behold has ftnick me dead : 

Unknowingly fhe ftrikes; and kills by chance; 

Poifon is in her eyes, and death in every glance. 

O, I^Tift aik ; nor afk alone, but move 

Her mind to mercy, or muft die for love. 

Thus Arcite : and thus Palamon replies, 
{Eager his tone, and ardent were his eyes.) 
Speak^ft thou in earneft, or in jeftingvein ? 
Jefting, faid Arcite, fuits but ill with pain. j 

It fuits far worfe (faid Palamon again, • , 

And bent bis brows) with men who honour weighy 
Their faith to break, their friendship to betray i 

- 7 . Bi 



PAXAMON AND ARCITE. 6$ 

But worft with thee, of noble lineage born. 
My kinfman, and in arms my brother fworn. 
Have we not plighted each our holy oath, 
That one ihould be the common good of both | 
One foul fhould both infpire, and neither prove 
His fellow's hindrance in purfuit of love ? 
To this before the Gods we gave our hands. 
And nothing but our death can break the bands* 
This binds thee, then, to further my deHgn : 
As I am bound by vow to further thine i 
Nor can (I,, nor dar'ft thou, traitor, on the plain 
Appeach my honour, or thine own maintain. 
Since thou art of my council, and the friend 
Whofe faith I truft, and on whofe care depend : 
And would'ft thou court my lady's love, which I 
Much jathcr than releafc would choofe to die ? 
But thoo, falfe Arcite, never (halt obtain 
Thy bad pretence j I -told thee firft ray pains 
For firft my love began ere thine was born 5 
Thou, as my council, and my brother fworn« 
Art bound t' affift my elderfhip of right : 
Or juftly to be deem'd a perjur'd knight. 

Thus Palamon : but Arcite with difdain 
In haughty language thus reply'd again j 
Forfworn thyfelf : the traitor's odious name 
I firft return, and then difprove thy claim. 
If love be paiTion, and that paflion nurft 
With ftrong defires, I lov'd the lady firft. 
Canft thou pretend defire, whom zeal inflamed 
To worlhip, and a power celeftial nam'd ? 

Vol. III. F Thicc, 



66 DRYDEN'S POEMS, 

Thine was devotion to the bleft above, 

I faw the woman, and defir'd her love ; 

Firft own'd my paflion, and to thee commend 

Th' important fccret, as my chofen friend. 

Suppofe (which yet I grant not) thy defirc 

A moment elder than my rival fire 5 

Can chance of feeing firft thy title prove ? 

And know'ft thou not, jno law is made for love ; 

Law is to things which to free choice i-elate 5 

Love is not in our choice, but in our fate ; 

Laws are but pofitive ; love% power, we fee. 

Is Nature^s fan6lion, and her firft decree. 

Edch day we break the bond of human laws 

For love,' and vindicate the common caufe.' 

Laws for defence of civil rights are placed. 

Love throws the fences down, and makesa general wa 

Maids, widows, wives, without diftin6lion fall ; 

The fvveeping deluge, love, comes on, and covers a 

If then the lavvs of friendfhip I tranfgrefs, 

I keep the greater, while I break the Icfs ; 

And both arc mad alike, fince neither can poffefs. 

Both hopelefs to be ranfom'd, never more 

To fee the fun, but as he pafles o'er. 

Like iEfop's hounds contending for the bone> 
Each pleaded, right, and would be lord alone : 
The fruitlefs fight continued all the day ; 
A cur came by, and fnatch'd the prize away. 
As courtiers therefore juftle for a grant, 
And when they break their fi iendfliip plead their wa 



2 /.?;r 



3. 24r:f 



v^. 






or on wiiatc'er pretence, 
pay the fcrflit cf th' oiFence. 

F 2 T« 



f 



} 



As coiii^.crs lii'jivioie juftlvi for n nrar 
And when they bis-'iik their IVicndliiip 



PALAMON AMD ARCITE. 

So thou, if fortune will thy fuit advance, 
Love on, nor envy nrje my equal chance : 
For I muft love, and am refolv*d to try 
My fate, or failing in th' adventure die. 

Great wa« their ftrife, which hourly wa« renew^d^ 
Till each with mortal bate his rival vicw'd : 
>Iow friends no more, nor walking hand in hand ; 
But when they met, they made a furly ((and ; 
And glar\l like angry lions as they pafs'^d. 
And wifh'd that every look might be their laft. 

It chanc'd at length, Pirithous came t' attend 
This worthy Tbefeus, his familiar friend j 
Their love in «arly infancy began, 
And rofe as childhood ripened into man. 
•Companions of the war; and lov'd fo weH, 
That when one dy'd, as ancient ftories tell. 
His fellow to redeem him went to hell. 

But to purfue my tale ; to welcome home 
His warlike brother is Pirithous come : 
Arcite of Thebes was known in arms long fince, 
And honourM by this young Theffalian prince. 
Thefeus, to gratify his friend and gueft. 
Who made our Arcite's freedom his requeft^ 
ReftorM to liberty the captive knig-ht. 
But on thefe hard conditions I recite : 
That if hereafter Arcite fhould be found 
Within the compals of Athenian ground, 
By day or night, or on whatever pretence, ' 
His head (hould pay the forfeit of th' offence. 

F 2 T« 



I 



^% DRYDEN'S POEMS. 

To this Pirithous for his friend agreed, 
And on his proraife was the prifoner freed. 

UnpleasM and penfive hence he takes his way. 
At his own peril j for his life muft pay. 
Who now but Arcite mourns his bitter fate, 
Finds his dear purchafe, and repents too late ? 
What have I gained, he faid, in prifon pent^ 
If I but change my bonds for banifliment*? 
And banifh'd from her fight, I fuffer more 
In freedom, than I felt in bonds before j 
Forc'd from her prefcnce, and condemn'd to live; 
Unwelcome freedom, and unthank'd reprieve: 
Heave 1 is not, but where Emily abides ; 
And where (he's abfent, all is hell befides. 
Next to my day of birth, was that accurft. 
Which bound my friendship to Pirithous firft s 
Had I not known that prince, I ftill had been 
In bondage, and had iliil Emilia feen : 
For though I never can her grace deferve, 
'Tis recompence enough to fee and fervc. 
O Palamon, my kinfman and my friend. 
How muvh more happy fates thy love attend I 
Thine is th' adventure } thine the victory : 
Well has thy fortune turn'd the dice for thee : 
Thou on thnt angel's face may'ft feed thine eyes. 
In prifon, no; but blifsful paradife ! 
Thou daily feeft that fun of beauty fhine. 
And lov'Il at leaft in love's extremeil line. 

I moui 



PALAMON AND ARCITE. 

I raourn in abfence, lovers eternal night; 
And who can tell but flnce thou haft her fight, 
And art a comely, young, and valiant knight. 
Fortune (a various power) may ceafe to frown, 
And by fome ways unknown thy wiflies crown ? 
But I, the moft forlorn of human kind, 
Nor help can hope, nor remedy can find ; 
But, doom'd to drag my loathfome life in care. 
For my reward, muft end it in defpair. 
Fire, water, air, and earth, and force of fates . 
That governs all, and heaven that all creates. 
Nor art, nor nature"*s hand can eafe my grief j 
Nothing but death, the wretch's laft relief: 
Then farewel youth, and all the joys that dwell. 
With youth and life, and life itfelf farewel. 

But why, alas ! do mortal men in vain 
Of fortune, fate, or Providence complain ? 
God gives us what he knows our wants require. 
And better things than thofe which we defire : 
Some pray for riches ; riches they obtain j 
But, watch'd by robbers, for their wealth are flain ; 
Some pray from prifon to be freed ; and come. 
When guilty of their vows, to fall at home j 
Murder'd by thofe they trufted with their life, 
A favoured fervant, or a bofom wife. 
Such dear-bought bleflings happen every day, 
Becaufe we know not for what things to pray. 
Like drunken fots about the flreet we roam : 
Well knows the fot he has a certain home j 

F 3 Yet 



^o DRYDEN'8 POEMS. 

Yet knows not how to find th' uncertain phce^ 
And blunders on, and daggers every pace. 
Thus all feck happinefs ; but few can find. 
For far the greater part of men are blind. 
This is my cafe, who thought our utmoft good. 
Was in one word of freedom underftooti : 
The fatal blefling came : from prifon freCt 
I flarve abroad, and lofe the fight of Emily. 
Thus Arcite ; but if Arcite thus deplore 
His fufFering"s,'Palamon yet fuffers more. 
For when he knew his rival freed and gene. 
He fwells with wrath ; he makes outrageous moan : 
He frets, he fumes, he flares, he ftamps the grounfl j. 
The hollow tower with clamours rings around : 
With briny tears he bath*d his fetter'd feet. 
And dropt all o'er with agony of fweat. 
Alas 1 he cry'd ! I wretch in prifon pine. 
Too happy rival, while the fruit is thine : 
Thou liv'ft at large, thou draw'il thy native air, 
Pleas'd with thy freedom, proud of my defpair: 
Thou mayft, fmce thou liaft youth and courage join'd,. 
A fvveet behaviour and a folid mind, 
Aflemble ours, and all the Theban race. 
To vindicate on Athens thy difgrace : 
And after, by fome treaty made, poffefs 
Fair Emily, the pledge of lading peace. 
So thine fliall be the beauteous prize, while I 
Muft languifh in defpair, in prifon die. 
Thus all th' advantage of the ftrlfe is thine. 
Thy portion double joys, and double forrows mine. 

The 



f* 



PALAMON and ARCITE. 

The rage of Jealoufy then fir'd his foul. 
And his face kindled like a burning coal : 
Now cold DefpaJr, fucceeding in her ftead. 
To livid palenefs turns the glowing red. 
His blood, fcarce liquid, creeps within his veins, 
• LikQ water which the freezing wind conftrains. 
Then thus he faid : Eternal Deities, 
Who rule the world with abfolute decrees, 
And write whatever time flin.ll bring to pafs. 
With pens of adamant, on plates of brafs j 
What, is the race of human kind your care 
Beyond what all his fellow-creatures are ? 
He with the reft is liable to pain, 
And like the (heep, his brothcr-beaft, is Haln, 
Cold, hunger, prifons, ills without a cure. 
All thefe he muft, and guiltlcfs oft endure ; 
Or does your juftice, power, or prefcience fail, 
When the good fuffer, and the bad prevail ? 
What v.'orfe to wretched virtue could befal. 
If fate or giddy fortune governed all ? 
Nay, worfe than other beafts is our «ftate ; 
Them, to purfue their plesfurcs, you create ; 
We, bound by harder laws, muft curb oiir will. 
And your commands, not our defires, fulfil j 
Then when the creature is unjuftly flain. 
Yet after death at leaft he feels no pain ; 
But man in life furchargM with woe before. 
Not freed when dead, is doom'd to fuffer mere. 
A/erpent fhoots his fting at unaware j 
An ambulh'd thief forelays a traveller : 

F 4 The 



L V :: - s- J ? O E M 5. 



■■~ "= Tf^-— ^ :c5a 



-^^ ?ff- -t^.* 



PALAMON AN0 ARCITE. n 

forrow in his ftupid eyes appears, 
wanting nourifhmenty he wanted tears s 
:ye-balls in their hollow fockets fink, 
t of ileep, he loaths his meat and drink* 
ithers at his heart, and looks as wan 
le pale fpeflre of a murderM man : 

pale turns yellow, and his face receives 
faded hue of faplefs boxen leaves: 
Utary groves he makes his moan» 
:s early out, and ever is alone: 

mixM in mirth, in youthful pleafures fliares> 
ighs when fongs and inftruments he hears, 
pirits are fo low, his voice is drowned, 
ears as from afar, or in a fwoon, 
the deaf murmurs of a diftant found : 
mbM his locks, and fqualid his attire, 
:e the trim of love and gay deiire : 
ull of mufeful mopings, which prefage 
lofs of reafon, and conclude in rage, 
when he had endurM a year and more, 
wholly chang'd from what he was before^ 
ppen'd once, that, flumbering as he lay, 
reamM (his dream began at break of day)^ 

Hermes o'er his head in air appeared, 
with foft words his drooping fpirits chearM ^ 
Lat, adomM with wings, difcIosM the God, 
in his hand he bore the deep-compelling rod :: 
as he feem'd, when, at his (ire's command,, 
krgus* head he laid the fnaky wand. 

Arifv ' 



I 



74. DRYDEN'S POEMS. 

Arife, he faid, t6 conquering Athens go, 
There fatfe appoinls an end to all thy woe* 
The fright aw&keiiM Arcite with a ftart, 
Againft his boTom bonncM his heaving heart; 
But foon he Riid, with fcarce-recover'd breath. 
And thither ^11 I go, to meet my death. 
Sure to be flaiA ; but deaHi is my delire, 
Since in Emilia's fight I (hall empire. 
By chance he fpy*d a mirror while he fpoke. 
And gazing there beheld his alterM look 5 
Wondering, he ftw his features and his hue 
So much ^rfe changed j that fcarce himfelf he kne\ 
A fudden thought then ftarting in his mind, 
Skice I in Arcite cannot Arcite find, 
^ht world may fearch in vain with all their eye 
But never penetrate thi*ough this difguife. 
Thanks to the change which grief and fickneft givi 
In low eftate 1 may fecurely live. 
And fee unknown my miftrefs day by day. 
He faid ; and clothM himfelf in coarfe array : 
A labouring hind in Ihew j then forth he went. 
And to th' Athenian towers his journey bent ; 
One fquire attended in the fame difguife, 
Made confcious of his maftfer"*s entfcrprife. 
Arrived at Athens foon he came to court. 
Unknown, unqueftion'd, in that thick refort: 
ProfFerifig for hire his fervice at the gate, 
To dvtrdge, draW Witei-, and to run or wait. 

So fair befel him, that for little gkin 
Xe ftfv'd at firil £milia*s chamberlain ; 



PALAMON AND ARCITE. 75; 

And, watchful all advantages' to fpy. 
Was ftUI at hand, and in his niafter*8 eyt ; 
And a« his bones were big, and finews ftrong. 
Refused no toil that could to (laves belong j 
But from deep wells with engine*^ water drew, . 
And usM his noble hands the wood to hew. 
He pafsM a year at leaft attending thus 
On Emily, and callM Philoftratus. 
But never was there man of his degree 
So much efteemM, fo well belovM as he. 
So gentle of condition was he known, 
That through the court his courtefy was blown : 
All think him worthy of a greater place. 
And recommend him to the royal grace : 
That, exercised within a higher (phere. 
His virtues more confpicuous might appear. 
Thus by the general voice was Arcite praisM, 
And by great Thefeus to high favour raisM : 
Among his menial fervants firft enroll'd, 
And largely entertained with fums of gold : 
Befides what fecretly from Thebes was fent. 
Of his own income, and his annual rent : 
This well employed, he purchas'^d friends and fame, 
But cautioufly concealed from whence it came. 
Thus for tliree years he li^'d with large increafe, > 
In arms of honour, and efteem in peace ; 
To Thefeus' perfon he was ever near } 
And Thefeus for his virtues held him dear.-^ 

pala-* 



76 DR YD EN'S POEMS. 

PALAMONand ARCITE: 

Or, THE KNIGHT'8 TALE. 

BOOK II. 

TT^HILE Arcite lives in blifS) the ftory turns 
^ ^ Where hopelefs Palamon in prifon mourns. 
For fix long years immur'd, the captive knight 
Had draggM his chains, and fcarcely feen the light : 
Loft liberty, and love, at once he bore : 
His prifon pained him much, his pafHon more t 
Nor dares he hope his fetters to remove. 
Nor ever wi(hes to be free from love. 

But when the fixth revolving year was run. 
And May within the Twins received the fun. 
Were it by chance, or forceful deftiny, 
Which forms in caufes firft whate'er /hall be, 
Aflifted by a friend, one moonlefs night, 
This Palamon from prifon took his flight : 
A pleafant beverage he prepared before 
Of wine and honey mix'd with added ftore 
Of opium ; to' his keeper this he brought. 
Who fwallow'd unaware the fleepy draught. 
And fnor'^d fecure till morn, his fenfes bound 
In (lumber, and in long oblivion drown'd. 
Short was the night, and careful Palamon 
Sought the next covert ere the rifing fun. 
A thick fpread foreft near the city lay. 
To this with lengthen'd ftrides he took his way 
(For far he could not fly, and fear'd ths day). 

Safe 



} 



PALAMON AND ARCITE. 7/ 

Safe from purfuit, he meant to fliun the light. 

Till the broMm fliadows of the friendly night 

To Thebes might favour his intended flight. 

When to his country come, his next defign 

Was all the Theban race in arms to join. 

And war on Thefeus, till he loft his life. 

Or won the beauteous Emily to wife. 

Thus while his thoughts the lingering day beguile. 

To gentle Arcite let us turn our ftile ; 

Who little dreamt how nigh he was to care. 

Till treacherous fortune caught him in the (hare. 

The morning-larky the meflenger of day, 

Saluted in her fong the morning gray j 

And foon the Ton arofe with beams fo bright. 

That all th* horizon laughM to fee the joyous fight | 

He with his tepid rays the rofe renews, 

And licks the drooping leaves, and dries the dews ) 

W^hen Arcite left his bed, refolv'd to pay 

Obfcrvancc to the month ^f merry May : 

Forth on-his fiery ftecd betimes he rode, 

That fcarcely prints the turf on which he trod : 

At eafe he feem'd, and, prancing o'er the plains, 

TurnM only to the grove his horfe's reins. 

The grove I nam'd before ; and, lighted there, 

A woodbine garland fought to crown his hair ; 

Then turn'd his face againft the rifing day, 

And raised hi^ voice to welcome in the May. 

For thee, fweet month, the groves green liveries wear. 
If not the firft, the faireft of the year s 

For 



7S DRYDEN^'S POEMS, 

For thee the Graces load the dancing hours. 
And Nature's ready pencil paints the flowers i 
When thy ikort reign is paA, the ftveriih fua 
The fultry tropic fears> and moves more dowly on 
So may thy tender blpfibms fear no blight, 
Nor goats with venom'd teeth thy tendrils bite. 
As thou (halt guide ray wandering feet to find 
The fragrant greens I feek, ray brows to bind. 

His vows addrefs'd, within the grove he ilray'd. 
Till fate, or fortune, near the place -coaveyM 
His (^eps where fecret Palamon was laid. 
TmW little thought of him the gentle knight. 
Who flying death had there concealed his flight. 
In brakes and branAbles hid, and fliunning morl 

fight : 
And lefs he knew him for his hated foe. 
But fear'd him as a man he did not know. 
But as it has beea iaid of ancient years. 
That fields are full of eyes,«and woods have ears \ 
For this the wife are ever on their gruard, 
For, unforcfeen, they fay, is unprepar'd. 
Uncautious Arcite thought himfelf alone. 
And lefs than all fufpe<S):ed Palamon, 
Who liftening heard him, while he fearch'd the gr 
And loudly fung his roundelay of love : 
But on the fudden ftoppM, and filent ftood, 
As lovers often mufe, and change their mood ; 
Now high as heaven, and then as low as hell ; 
Now up, now down, as buckets in a well j 
4 



\ 



PAtAMON AND ARCITE. 79 

For Venus, like her dayy will change her cheer. 

And feldom (hall we fee a Friday clear. 

Thus Arcite, having fung, with altered hue 

Sunk on the ground* and from his bofocn drew 

A defperate figh, accuiing heaven and fate. 

And angry Juno^s unrelenting hate. 

CursM be the day whiui firH I did appear s 

Let it be blotted from the calendar. 

Left it pollute the month, and polTon all the year. 

Still will the jealous Queen purfue our race ? 

Cadmiu is dead, the Theban city was : 

Yet ceaTes sot her h^ : for all who come 

From Cadmus are involved in Cadmus' doom* 

I fuffer for my blood : unjuft decree ! 

That punifhes another's crime on me. 

In mean eftate I ferve my mortal foe, 

The man who caused my country's overthrow. 

This is not all ; for Juno, to my ihame,. 

Has forc'd me to forfake my former name j 

Arcite I was, Philoftratus I am* 

That fide of heaven is all my enemy : 

Mars ruin'd Thebes :. his mother ruin'd ms* 

Of all the royal race remains but one 

Befides myfelf, th' unhappy Palamon,. 

Whom Thefeus holds in bonds, aiid will not free j 

Without a crime, except his kin to me. 

Yet thefe, and all the reft, I could endure ; 

But Love 's a malady without a cur/e ; 

Fierce Love has pierc'd me with his fiery dart^^ 

He fires within, and -hiiTes at my heart. 

Your 



] 



7% DRYD£N*S POEMS* 

Tiie man lies murder'dy while the thief and fnake^ 
One gains the thickets, and one thridt the bralce. 
This let divines decide j but well I know, 
Juft or unjuft, I have my (liare of woe^ 
ThroQgh Saturn feated in a lucklefs place. 
And Juno^s wrath, that perfecutes my race ; 
Or Mars and Venus, in a quart!!, move 
My pangs of jealoufy for Arcitc's love. 

Let Palamon opprefsM in bondage mourn^ 
While to his exil'd rival wc return. 
By this, the fun, declining from his height, 
The day had fhortcn'd, to prolong the night : 
The IcngthenM night gave length of mifery 
Both to the captive lover and the free j 
For Palamon in endlefs prifon mourns. 
And Arcite forfeits life if he returns j 
The banifti'd never hopes his love to fee. 
Nor hopes the captive lord his liberty i 
'Tis hard to fay who fufFcrs greater pains i 
One fees his love, but cannot break his chains t 
One free, and all his motions uncontroPd, 
Beholds whatever he would, but what he would beboldV 
Judge as you pleafe, for I will hafte to tell 
What fortune to the banifhM knight befel. 
When Arcite was to Thebes return 'd again. 
The lofs of her he lov^d renewed his pain { 
What could be worfe, than never more to fee 
His life, his foul, his charming Emily f 
He rav'd with all the madncfs of defpair, 
lie roar*d> he beat hi» breafty he tore his hair* 

Dry 



PALAMON AND ARCITE. 8i 

Now by the Gods who govern heaven above, 

Wert thou not weak with hunger, mad with love. 

That word had been thy laft, or in this grove 

This hand (hould force thee to renounce thy love. 

The furety which I gave thee, I defy : 

Fool, not to know that love endures no tie, 

And Jove but laughs at lovers perjury. 

Know I will ferve the fair in thy defpight ; 

But (ince thou art my kinfman, and a knight^ 

Here, have my faith, to-monow in this grove 

Our arms fhall plead the titles of our love : 

And Heaven fo help my right, as I alone 

Will come, and keep the caule and quarrel both 

unknown ; 
With arms of proof both for myfelf and thee 5 
Chufe thou the beft, and leave the worft to me. 
And, that a better eafe thou may'ft abide, 
Bedding and cloaths I will this night provide. 
And needful fuftenance, that thou mayH be 
A conqueft better won, and worthy me. 
His promife Palamon accepts 5 but pray'd. 
To keep it better than the firft he made. 
Thus fair they parted till the morrow's dawn. 
For each had laid his plighted faith to pawn. % 
Oh Love ! thou fternly doft thy power maintain. 
And wilt not bear a rival in thy reign. 
Tyrants and thou all fellowfhip difdain. 
This was in Arcite prov'd, and Palamon ; 
Both in defpair, yet each would love alone. 
Arcite retum'd, and, as in honour ty'd, 
His foe with bedding and with food fupply'd 5 

Vol, m. G TVxv^ 



1 



Sz DRYDEN'S POEMS. 

Then, ere the day, two fuits of aimour fought. 
Which borne before him on his fteed he brought : 
Both were of fhining fteel, and wrought fo pure, 
As might the ftrokes of two fuch arms endure. 
Now, at the time, and in th' appointed place. 
The challenger and challeng'd, face to face, 
Approach ; each other from afar they knew. 
And from afar their hatred changed their hue. 
So (lands the Thracian herdfman with his fpear. 
Full in the gap, and hopes the hunted bear, 
And hears him ruftling in the wood, and fees 
His courfe at diftance by the bending tiees ; 
And thinks, here comes my mortal enemy. 
And either he muft fall in fight, or I : 
This while he thinks, he lifts aloft his dart ; 
A generous chiinefs feizes every part; 
The veins pour back the blood, and fortify the heart. 
Thus pale they meet ; their eyes with fury burn j 
None greets j for none the greeting will return ; 
But in dumb furlinefs, each arm'd with care 
His foe profeft, as brother of the war : 
Then both, no moment loft, at once advance 
Againft each other, arm'd with fword and lance : 
They lafh, they foin, they pafs, they ftrive to bore 
Their corflets, and the thinneft parts explore. 
Thus two long hours in equal arms they ftood, 
And wounded, wound j till both were bath\l in blood { 
And not a foot of ground had either got, 
As if die world depended on the fpot. 

Fell 



ALAMON AND ARCITE. S5 

c like an angry tiger far'd, 

I lion Palamon appeared : 

boars whom love to battle draws, 

g briftles, and with frothy jaws, 

?rfe breads with tuflcs oblique they wound $ 

Its and groans the foreft rings around. 

the knights, and fighting muft abide, 

n umpire fends their difference to decide. 

' that minifters to God's decrees, 

ites on earth what heaven forcfees, 

/-idence, or chance, or fatal fway, 

h refiftlefs force, and finds or makes horway. 

, nor nations, nor united power, 

nt can retard th' appointed hour. 

one day, fome wondrous chance appeariy 

>pen'd not in centuries of years : 

whatever we mortals hate, or love, 

•r fear, depends on powers above | 

i our appetites to good or ill, 

refight neceflitate the will. 

. this appears ; whofe youthful joy 

of chace in forefts to deftroy, 
: knight, infpirM by jolly May, 
i cafy couch at early day, 

wood and wilds purfued his way. 

rode Hippolita the queen, 

' attirM in lively green, 

t, and hounds, and all the tuneful cry, 

royal hart within the covert nigh s 

G% Ani 



1 



l4 DRYDEN'S POEMS. 

And as he foIlowM Mars before, Co now 
He ferves the goddefs of the filver bow. 
The way that Thefeus took was to the wood 
Where the two knights in cruel battle ftood : 
The lawn on which they fought, th^ appointed plao 
In which th* uncoupled hounds began the chace. 
Thither forth-right he rode to roufe the prey. 
That fhaded by the fern in harbour lay; 
And, thence diAodg^d, was wont to leave the wood 
For open fields, and crofs the cryftal flood. 
ApproachM, and looking underneath the fun. 
He faw proud Arcite, and fierce Palamon, 
In mortal battle doubling blow on blow. 
Like lightning flam'd their faulchions to and fro, 
And (hot a dreadful gleam ; fo ftrong they fbook, 
There feemM lefs force required to fell an oak i 
He gazM with wonder on their equal might, 
Look'd eager on, but knew not either knight : 
Refolv'd to learn, he fpurr'd his fiery deed 
With goring rowels to provoke his fpeed. 
The minute ended that began the race. 
So foon he was betwixt them on the place ; 
And with his fword unfheatVd, on pain of life 
Commands both combatants to ceafe their firife : 
Then with imperious tone purfues his threat ; 
What are you ? why in arras together met ? 
How dares your pride prefume againft my law8> 
As in a lifted field to fight your caufe ? 
Unafk'd the royal grant 5 no marfhal by. 
As knightly rites require j Bor judge to try ? 

J T 



1 



PALAMON AND ARCtTE. %$ 

Then Palamon, with fcarce recovered breath. 
Thus hafty fpoke : We both deferve the death, 
And both would die ; fer look the world around, 
A {>air fo wretched is not to be found. 
Our life *8 a load $ encumbered with the charge. 
We long to fet th' imprifon'd foul at large. 
Now as thou art a fovereign judge, decree 
The rightful doom of death to him and me, 
Let neither find thy grace ; for grace is cruelty. 
Me firft, O kill me firft ; and cure my woe ; 
Then fheath the fword of juftice on my foe : 
Or kill him firft 5 for when his name is heard. 
He foremoft will receive his due reward. 
Arcite of Thebes is he 5 thy mortal foe : 
On- whom thy grace did liberty beftow j 
But firft contra6led, that if ever found 
By day or night upon th' Athenian ground, 
His head fhould pay the forfeit j fee retum'd 
The perjur'd knight, his oath and honour fcorn'd 
For this is he, who, with a borrowed name 
And profferM fervice, to thy palace came. 
Now caird Philoftratus : retained by thee, 
A traitor trufted, and in high degree, 
Afpiring to the bed of beauteous Emily. 
My part remains ; from Thebes my birth I own. 
And call myfelf th' unhappy Palamon. 
Think me not like that man j fince no difgrace 
Can force me to renounce tlie honour of my race. 
Know me for what I am : I broke my chain, 
Nor promised I thy prifoner to remain : 

G 3 The 



I 



16 DRYDEN'S POEMS. 

The love of liberty with life is given, 
And life itfelf th' inferior gift of Heavenr 
Thus without crime J fled 5 but farther know^ 
I with this Arcite an> thy mortal foe : 
Then give me death, fmce I thy life purfue j 
For fafegnard of thyfelf, death i^ my due. 
More would ft thou know ? I Jove bright Emily, 
And for her fake and in her fight will die : 
But kill my rival too j for he no lefs 
Defei-ves 5 and I thy righteous doom will blefs, 
Aflur'd that what I lofe, he never fliall poflTefs. 
To this reply'd the ftern Athenian prince. 
And fourly fmil'd, In owning your offence. 
You judge yourfelf 5 and I but keep record 
In place of law, while you pronounce the word. 
Take your defert, the death you have decreed j 
I feal your doom, and ratify the deed : 
By Mars, the patron of my arms, you die. 
He faid ; dumb forrow feiz'd the ftanders-by. 
The queen above the reft, by nature good, 
(The pattern formM of perfe6l womanhood) 
For tender pity wept : when ftie began. 
Through the bright quire th' infeftious virtue ran* 
All dropt their tearsj ev'n the contended maid : 
And thus among themfelves they foftly faid : 
What eyes can fuifer this unworthy fight ! 
Two youths of royal blood, renown'd in fight. 
The mafterfhip of heaven in face and mind. 
And lovers, far beyond tlieir faiihlefs kind i 

I S 



PALAMON AND ARCITE. 87 

See their wide dreaming wounds ; they neither came 

For pride of empire, nor defire of fame : 

Kings fight for kingdoms, madmen for applanfe : 

But love for love alone ; that crowns the lover's caufe. 

This thought, which ever bribes the beauteous kind. 

Such pity wrought in every lady's mind. 

They left their deeds, and prollrate on the place, 

From the fierce king, implorM th' offenders j^iace. 

He paus'd a while, ftood illent in his mood 
(For yet his rage was boiling in his blood) ; 
But foon his tender mind th' impveflion felr, 
(As fofted metals are not flow to melt 
And pity fooncft runs in fofted minds) : 
Then reafons with himfelf ; and fird he finds 
His paffion cad a mid before his fenfe. 
And either made, or magnify \1 th' offence. 
Offence ! of what ? to whom ? who judg'd the caufe ? 
The prifoner freed himfelf by nature's laws : 
Born free, he fought his right : the man he freed 
Was perjured, but his love excusM the deed : 
Thus pondering, he lookM under with his eyes. 
And faw the women's tears, and heard their cries ; 
Which mov'd compafiion more, he fhook his head. 
And foftly fighing to himfelf he faid : 
Curfe on th* unpardoning prince, whom tears can 
draw 
To no remorfc 5 who rules by lions law ; 
And deaf to prayers, by no fubmiffion bow'd, 
Kends all alike j the penitent, and proud ; 

C4 Ar 



8S DRYDEN'S POEMS. 

At this, with look ferene, he raisM his head ; 

Reafon refum'd her place, and pafllon fled : 

Then thus aloud he fpoke : The power of love. 

In earth, and Teas, and air, and heaven above. 

Rules, unrefifted, with an awful nod ; 

By daily miracles declarM a Ood : 

He blinds the wife, gives cye-fight to the blind $ 

And moulds and ftamps anew the lover^s mind. 

Behold that Arcite, and this Palamon, 

Freed from my fetters, and in fafety gone. 

What hinder'd either in their i)ative foil 

At eafe to reap the harveft of their toil j 

But Love, their lord, did otherwife ordain. 

And brought them in their own defpitc again. 

To fuffcr death deferv'd j for well they know, 

'Tis in my power, and I their deadly foe j 

The proverb holds, that to be wife and love. 

Is hardly granted to the Gods above. 

See how the madmen bleed : behold the gains 

With which their mafter. Love, rewards their pains | 

For feven long years, on duty every day, 

Lo their obedience, and their monarch's pay : 

Yet, as in duty bound, they ferve him on 5 

And, afk the fools, they think it wifely done j 

Nor eafe, nor wealth, nor life itfelf regard, 

For*ti8 their maxim. Love is love's reward. 

This is not all ; the fair for whom they ftrove 

Nor knew before, nor could fufpefl their love. 

Nor thought, when ihe beheld the fight from far, 

H«r beauty was th' occafion of the war, 

Bui 



} 



PALAMON AND ARCITE. 

But Aire a general doom on man is paft, 

And all are fools and lovers, firft or laft : 

This both by others and royfelf I know. 

For I have fervM their fovereign long ago 5 

Oft have been caught within the winding train 

Of female fnares, and felt the lover^s pain, 

And leamM how far the God can human hearts con 

ftrain. 

To this remembrance, and the prayers of thofe 
Who for th* offending warriors interpofe> 
I give their forfeit lives ; on this accord^ 
To do me homage as their fovereign lord ; 
And as my vaflfals, to their utmoft might, 
Affift my perfon, and affert my right. 
This freely fwom, the knights their grace obtain'd. 
Then thus the king his fecret thoughts explainM j 
If wealthy or honour, or a royal race. 
Or each, or all, may win a lady^s grace. 
Then either of you knights may well dcfervc 
A princefs bom ; and fuch is (he you ferve s 
For Emily is iifter to the crown. 
And but too well to both her beauty known : 
But fliould you combat till you both were dead. 
Two lovers cannot Ihare a fingle bed : 
As therefore both are equal in degree, 
The lot of both be left to drftiny. 
Now hear th' award, and happy may it prove 
To her, and him who bed deferves her love ! 
Depart from hence in peace, and free as air, 
Search the wide world, and where you pleafe repair ; 

But 



90 DRYDEN'S POEMS. 

But on the day when this retinning fun 

To the fame point through every fign has run. 

Then each of you his hundred knights (hall bring. 

In royal lifts, to fight before the king ; 

And then the knight, whom fate or happy chance 

Shall with his friends to viftory advance, 

And grace his arms fo far in equal fight. 

From out the bars to force his oppofite. 

Or kill, or make him recreant on the plain. 

The prize of valour and of love (hall gain ; 

The vanquifh'd party fhall their claim releafe. 

And the long jars conclude in lafting peace. 

The charge be mine t' adom the chofen ground. 

The theatre of war, for champions fo renown'd j 

And take the {Matron's place of either knight. 

With eyes impartial to behold the fight 5 

And heaven of me fo judge as I ftiall judge aright. 

If both are fatisfied with this accord, 

Swear by the laws of knighthood on my fword. 

Who now but Palamon exults with joy ? 

And ravifh'd Arcite feems to touch the fkyi 

The whole aiTembled troop was pleased as well. 

Extol th' award, and on their knees they fell 

To blefs the gracious king. The knights with leave 

Departing from the place, his laft commands receive j 

On Emily with equal ardour look, 

And from her eyes their infpiration took. 

From thence to Thebes' old walls purfue their way. 

Each to provide his champions for the day. 

It 



PALAMON AND ARCITE. ^ 

It might be deem'd, on our hlftorlan's part. 
Or too much negligence, or want of art, 
If he forgot the vaft magnificence 
Of royal Thefcus, and his large expence. 
He firft inclosM for lifts a level ground. 
The whole circumfci ence a mile around ; 
The form was circular ; and all without 
A trench was funk, to moat the place about* 
Within an amphitheatre appeared, 
RaisM in degrees j to fixty paces reared : 
That when a man was placM in one degree. 
Height was allowM for him above to fee. 

Eaftward was built a gate of marble white j 
Th^ like adomM the weftem oppofite. 
A nobler obje£l than this fabric was, 
Rome never iaw 5 nor of fo vail a fpacc : 
For, rich with fpoils of mar.y a conquerM land. 
All arts and aitifts Thefeus could command 5 
Who fold for hire, or wrought for better fame j 
The mafter-painters and the carvers came. 
So rofe within the compafs of the year 
An age''s work, a glorious theatre. 
Then o'er its caftern gate was rais'd above 
A temple, facred to the que? n of love j 
An altar ftood below : on cither hand 
A priert v/itli rofes crown'd, who held a myrtle wand 

The dome of Mars was on the gate oppos'd. 
And on the north a turret was inclosM, 
Within the wall of alabafter wliite, 
And crimfon coral for the queen of night, 
Who take* in fylvan fports her chafte delight. 

Within 



\ 



} 



91 DRYDEN'S POEMS. 

Within thefe oratories might you fee 
Kich carvings, pourtraitures, and imagery : 
Where every figure to the life exprcfsM 
The godhead's power to whom it was addrefsM* 
In Venus' temple on the fides were feen 
The broken {lumbers of enamour'd men. 
Prayers that even fpoke, and pity feem'd to call. 
And ifTuing fighs that fmok'd along the wall. 
Complaints, and hot defires, the lover's hell. 
And fcalding tears that wore a channel where they fell 
And all around where nuptial bonds, the ties. 
Of love's affurance, and a train of lies, 
That, made in luft, conclude in perjuries. 
Beauty, and youth, and wealth, and luxury. 
And I'pritely hope, and ftiort-enduring joy j 
And forceries to raifc th' infernal powers. 
And figils fram'd in planetary hours : 
Expence, and after-thought, and idle care, 
And doubts of motley hue, and dark defpair ; 
Sufpicions, and fantaftical furmife. 
And jealoufy fufFus'd, with jaundice in her eyes, 
Difcolouring all (he view'd, in tawny drefs'd 5 
Down-look'd, and with a cuckow on her fi&. 
Oppos'd to her, on t' other fide advance 
The coftly feaft, the carol, and the dance, 
Minftrels, and mufic, poetry, and play. 
And balls by night, and tournaments by day. 
All thefe were painted on the wall, and more s 
With a6^s and monuments of times before : 

Ani 



} 



PALAMON AND ARCITE. s% 

And others added by prophetic doom, 

And lovers yet unborn, and loves to come : 

For there th' Idalian mount, and Citheron^ 

The court of Venus was in colours drawn : 

Before the palace-gate, in carelefs drefs, 

And loofe array, fat portrefs Idlenefs : 

There, by the fount, Narciffus pin'd alone ; 

There Samfon was 5 with wifer Solomon, 

And all the mighty names by Love undone. 

Medea^s charms were there, Circean feafts, 

With bowls that turn*4 enamour^ youths to beafts^ 

Here might be feen, that beauty, wealth, and wit. 

And prowefs, to the power of love fubmit : 

The ipreading fnare for all mankind is laid ; 

And lovers all betray, anfl are betray M, 

The Goddefs^ felf fome noble hand had wrought ; 

Smiling fhe feem'd, and full of pleaiing thought : 

From ocean as (he firft began to rife. 

And fmooth'd the ruffled feas and clear'd the ikies j 

She trod the brine all bare below the breaft. 

And the green waves but ill conceaPd the reft j 

A lute fhe held 5 and on her head was feen 

A wreath of rofes red, and myrtles green j 

Her turtles fann'd the buxom air above ; 

And, by his mother, ftood an infant Love, 

"With wings unfledg'd ; his eyes were banded o'er 

His hands a bow, his back a quiver bore, 

SupplyM with arrows bright and keen, a deadly ftore. 

But in the dome of mighty Mars the red 

With different figures all the fides were fpreadj 

Thi$ 



:] 



94 DRYDEN'S POEMS. 

This temple, lefs in form, with equal grace. 

Was imitative of the firft in Thrace : 

For that cold region was the lovM abpde. 

And fovereign manHon of the warrior god» 

The landfcape was a foreft wide and bare 5 

Where neither beaft, nor human kind repair ; 

The fowl, that fcent afar, the borders fly, 

And (hun the bitter blaft, and wheel about the (ky. 

A cake of fcurf lies baking on the ground, 

And prickly ftubs, inftead of trees, are found ; 

Or woods with knots and knares deform'd and old { 

Headlefs the moft, and hideous to behold : 

A rattling tempeft through the branches went. 

That ftripp'd them bare, and one fole way they bent. 

Heaven froze above, fevere, the clouds congeal. 

And through the chryflal vault appeared the landing 

hail, 
Such was the face without 5 a mountain flood 
Threatening from high, and overlooked the wood t 
Beneath the lowring brow, and on a bent. 
The temple ftood of Mars armipotent : 
The frame of burnifh'd fteel, that caft a glare 
From far, and feem'd to thaw the freezing air* 
A ftrait long entry to the temple led. 
Blind with high walls ; and horror over head : 
Thence iffued fuch a blaft, and hollow roar. 
As threatened from the hinge to heave the door $ 
In through that door, a northern light there (hone j 
*Twas all it had, for windows there were none, 

The 



PALAMON AND ARCITE. 9^ 

le gate was adamant *, eternal frame ! 

hich, hewM by Mars himfelf, from Indian quarries 

came, 
e labour of a God ; and all along 
ugh iron plates were clenchM to make it ftrong, 
run about was every pillar there ; 
)oli(hM mirror (hone not half fo clear. 
5rc faw I how the fecret felon wrought, 
d treafon labouring in the traitor's thought : 
i midwife Time the ripen'd plot to murder brought, 
•re the red anger darM the pallid fear j 
t ftood hypocrify, with holy leer j 
: fmiling, and demurely looking down, 
hid the dagger underneath the gown : 
afTaflinating wife, the houfliold fiend 5 
I far the blackeft there, the traitor-friend. 
f other fide there ftood deftru6lion bare 5 
unifhM rapine, and a wafte of war. 
teft, with fharpenM knives, in cloifters drawn^ 
! all with blood befpread the holy lawn. 
i menaces were heard, and foul difgrace, 
bawling infamy, in language bafe ; 
fenfe was loft in found, and filence fled the place 
flayer of himfelf yet faw I there, 
gore congcalM was clotted in his hair : 
I eyes half clos'd, and gaping mouth he lay, 
grim, as when he breathM his fullen foul away, 
idft of all the dome, misfortune fate, 
gloomy difcontent, and fell debate. 



] 



4|6 DRYDEN'S POEMS. 

And raadnefs laughing in his ireful mood ; 

And armM complaint on theft} and cries of blood. 

There was the murder'd corpfe, in covert laid. 

And violent death in thoufand fhapes difplay'd : 

The city to the foldier's rage refign'd : 

Succefslefs vj^ars, and poverty behind : 

Ships burnt in fight, or forc'd on rocky fliores. 

And the rafh hunter ftrangled by the boars : 

The new-born babe by nurfes overlaid 5 

And the cook caught within the raging fire he made. 

All ills of Mars's nature, flame and fteel ; 

The gafping charioteer, beneath the wheel 

Of his own car 5 the ruin'd houfe that falls 

And intercepts her lord betwixt the walls : 

The whole divifion that to Mars pertains. 

All trades of death that deal in fteel for gains. 

Were there : the butcher, armourer, and fmith. 

Who forges fharpen'd faulchions, or the fcythe. 

The fcarlet conqueft on a tower was plac'd. 

With (houts, and foldiers acclamations grac'd : 

A pointed fword hung threatening o'er his head> 

Suftain'd but by a (lender twine of thread. 

There faw I Mars's ides, the capitol. 

The feer in vain foretelling Caefar's fall ; 

The laft triumvirs, and the wars they move. 

And Anthony, who loft the world for love. 

Thefe, and a thoufand more, the fane adorn ; 

Their fates were painted ere the men were born, 

AH copied from the heavens, and ruling force 

Of the red ftar, in his revolving courfe. 

Tl 



i 



PALAMON AMD ARCITE. 97 

The form of Mars high on a chariot ftood, 

All flieath^d in arnis^ and gruffly looked the God : 

Two geomantic figures were difplayM 

Above his head, a warrior and a maid $ 

One when dire£l» and one when retrograde. 

Tir'd with deformities of death, I hafte 
To the third temple of Diana chafte. 
A fylvan fcene with various greens was drawn. 
Shades on the fides, and on the midft a lawn : 
The filver Cynthia, with her nymphs around, 
Purfued the flying deer, the woods with homt refouad 1 
Califto there flood manifeft of fliame. 
And, tum*d a bear, the northern ftar became 1 
Her fon was next, and by peculiar grace 
In the cold circle held the fecond place : 
The ftag Afteon in the ftream had fpy'd 
The naked huntrefs, and, for feeing, dy'd : 
His hounds, unknowing of his change, purfue 
The chace, and their miftaken madcr (lew. 
Peneian Daphne too was there to fee, 
Apollo's love before, and now his tree : 
Th" adjoining fane th* alTembled Greeks exprefs'dif 
And hunting of the Caledonian beaft. 
Oenides' valour, and his envy'd prize^ 
The fatal power of Atalanta^s eyes ; 
Diana's vengeance on the vi^r (hown. 
The murdrefs mother; and confuming fon; 
The Volfcian queen extended on the plain j 
The treafon puniih'd, and the traitor (lain. 

you. Ul. H The 



^ DRYDBN'S PQ£MS« 

The reft were, various huntings, well defign^d^ 

And toLvzgt beafts deftroy^d, of every kind. 

'Jfce graceful goddefs was arrayed in green ; 

^bout her feet weie little bcagks. feen. 

That watch'd with upward eyes the motions of their 

queen. 
Her legs were bufkin^d, and the left befiore $ 
In a£l to ihoot» a fiWer bow flie bore. 
And at her back a. painted quiver wort. 
She^rdd a woxing moon, that ibon would wane. 
And drinking borrowed light, bs-fiird again i 
With downcaft eyes, as feeming to furvey 
The dark dominions, her alternate Jway* 
Before her ftood a woman in her throes. 
And caird Lucina^s sud,- her burden to diiclofe. 
All thefe the pamter drew with fuch command. 
That Nature fnatchM the pencil from his band, 
AfliamM and angry that his art could feign 
And mend tlie tortures of a mother's pain. 
Thefeus beheld the fanes of every God, 
And thought his mighty coft was well beftow*d. 
So princes now their poets fhould i*egard ; 
But few can write, and fewer can reward. 

The theatre thus rars'd, the lifts enclosed, 
And all with vaft magnificence diipos'd, 
We leave the monarch pleased, and hafte to bring 
The knights to combat | and their arms to fing. 



PAL 



r 99 1 

JALAMON AND ARCITE: 
0%, THE KNIGHT'S TALE. 

BOOK QL 

*^T^fi E day ai)proacVd when Fortune (hould decide 
* Th' important entjerprize, and give the bride i 
For now, the rivals round the worid had fought. 
And each his rivaJ, well appointed, brought. 
The nations, far and near, contend in choice. 
And fend the flower of war by public voice; 
That after, or before, were never known 
Such chiefs, as each an array feemM alone : 
ficfide the champions ; all of high degree. 
Who Icnighthood lov'd, and deeds of chivalry, 
ThrongM-Co'the lifts, and envyM to behold 
The names of others, not their own, enrolPd. 
Nor feemsit ftrange ; for every nobl; knight 
Who loves the fair, and is endued with might. 
In fuch a quarrel would be proud to fight. 
There breathes not fcarce a man on Britiih ground 
{An ifleibr love and arms of old renowned) 
But would have fold his life to pnrchafe fame. 
To Palamon or Arcite fent his name : 
And had th« land felefted of the beft. 
Half had come hence, and let the world provide the reft* 
A hundred knights with Palamon there came, 
AoprovM in fight, and men of mighty name ; 

H z Th?ir 



1 



too DRYDEN'Sc POEMS, 

Their arms were feveral, as their nations were, 
-But furniih'd.-HU alike with fword-aiKf fpear. 
Some wore coat armour, imitating fcale ; 
And next tkeir tkins wer^ ftubfborn Ihirts of maik 
Some wore a breart-plate and a li^ht juppon. 
Their horles cloth'd with rich traparifon : 
"Some for defence would leathern bucklers ufe, 
•Of folded hides ; and others fhields of prucc. 
One hung a pole-axe at his faddle-bow. 
And She alieavy mace to fhun the foe 5 
One for his legs and knees provided well. 
With jambeux arm^'d, and double plates of fteel : 
This on his -helmet wore a lady's glove, 
And that a lleerve embroidered by his love. 
With Palamon above the reft in place, 
Lycurgus came, the fiirly king of Thrace^ 
Black was his beard, and manly was his face ; 
The balls of his broad eyes rolPd in his head, 
And glar'd betwixt a yellow and a red : 
He look'd a lion with a gloomy dare, 
And o'er his eye-brows hung his matted hair : 
Big-bon*d, and large of limbs, with fmews ftroDg, 
Broad-fhoulder'd, and his arms were round and long. 
Four milk-white bulls (the Thracian ufe of old) 
Were yok'd to draw his car of burnifti'd gold. 
Upright he ftood, and bore aloft his (hield, 
Confpicuous from afar, and overlooked the field. 
His furcoat was a bear-(kin on his back i 
His hair hung long behind, and gloffy raven black. 



] 



is f 



PAL AM ON AND ARCITE. ley 

Hfs ample forehead bore a coronet 
With fparkling diamonds and with rubies fet t 
Ten brace, and more» of greyhounds, fnowy fair, 
And tall as dags, ran looib, and cours'd around his J 

chair, 
A match for pards in flight, in grappling for the bear : 
With golden muzzles all their mouths were bound. 
And collars of the fame their necks furrotuid^ 
Thus through the fields Lycurgus took his way 5 
His hundred knights attend in pomp and proud array^ 
To match this monarch, with ftrong Arcite came 
Emetrius king of Inde, a nughty name> 
On a bay courfer, goodly to behold 
The trappings of his horfe adomM with barbarous gold.. 
Not Mara beftrode a fteed with greater grace ; 
His furcoat o'er his arms was cloth of Thrace,, 
AdomM with pearls, all orient, round, and great $, 
His faddle v;as of gold, with emeralds fet* 
His flioulders large a mantle did attire. 
With rubies thick, and fparkling as the fire i 
His amber-colourM locks in ringlets run. 
With graceful negligence, and (hone againft tlie fun* 
His nofe was aquiline, his eyes were blue. 
Ruddy his lips, and frefh and fair his hue : 
Some iprinkled freckles on his face were feen, 
Whofc dulk fet off the whitenefs of the Ikin t 
His awful prefence did the croud fui-prize^ 
Nor durft the rafh fpe6tator meet his eyes,. 
Eyes that confefsM him bom for kingly fway,^ 
So fierccj they flaih'd intolerable day.. 

H I m%. 



Kit age in nature^s youthful prime appe8r*d». 
And juft began to bloam< his yellow beard. 
Whene'er he fpoke, hta voice was heard anouodi 
Loud' as a trumpet, with a fiiver found, . 
A laurel wreath*d his temples, frcfh and green- ; 
And myrtle fprigs, the marks of love^ vrare mix 

between. 
Upon his fift he bore, for his delight. 
An eagle well reclaimed, and lily white. 

His hundred knights attend him to the war^ 
All arm'd for battle J fave their heads were baie^ 
Words and devices blazed on every . (hield, 
And pleafmg was the terror of the. field. 
For kings, and dukes, and barons^ you might Ctt, 
Like fparkling fbrs, though different in degree. 
All for th' increafe of arms, and love of chivalry. 
Before the king tame leopards led the way. 
And troops of lions. innocently play. 
So Bacchus through the conquer''d Indies rode, 
And bcafts in gambols frifkM before the honeft god.. 

In this array the war of* either fide 
Throtigh Athens pafs'd with military pride. 
At prime, they entered on the Sunday morn ; 
Rich tapeftry fpread the ftreets, and flowers the pol 

adorn. 
The town was all a jubilee of feafts j 
So Thefens willM, in honour of his guefts $ • 
Himfelf with open arms the king embraced. 
Then all the reft, in their degrees were grac'd.. 

4 M 



PAtAMOi* AND Arcite. toi 

No harbinger Was necdfil! fot a night. 

For cvet^ houfb ^^ proud to lodge a ktilgfat. 

I pafs the royal treat, nor muft relate 
Theglfti bcfto^'d, nor hOw thfe champions fate : 
Who firft, or laft, or how the knights addrefs'd 
Their vows, or Who was faireft at the feaft 5 
^V'hofe Voice, who(b graceful dance did inoft farprize s 
Soft amorous fighs, and fitetit love of eyes. 
The rivals calfmy Mufe another way. 
To fing their vigils for tV enfuing day. 
'Twas ebhirig darknefs, palt the noon of night : 
And Phofpher, oh the confines of the light, 
Promised the fun, ere da^ b^gan to fpring ; 
The tuneful laric already ftretch'd her wing. 
And, flickering on her tied:, rfiade fhort elTays to fing. 

When wakeful Palimon, preventing day. 
Took, to the royal lifts, his early way, 
To Venus at her fane, in her own houfe, to pray. 
There, falling on his knees before her fhrine. 
He thus implor'd with prayers her power divine. 
Creator Venus, genial power of love. 
The Wifs of men below, and Gods above ! 
Beneath the Aiding fun thou ruhn'ft thy race, 
Doft faireft ihine, and beft become thy place. 
For thee the winds their eaftern blafts forbear, 
Thy month reveals the fpring, and opens all the year. 
Thee, Goddefs, thee the (brms of winter fly, , > 

Earth fmiles with flowei's renewing, laughs the flcy, y 
And birds to lays of love their tuneful notes apply. > 
H 4 For 



] 



><H DR YD EN'S POEMS. 

For thee the lion loaths the tafte of blood. 
And roaring hunts his female through the wood : 
For thee the bulls rebellow through the groves. 
And tempt the ftream, and ihuff their abfent loves 
^Tis thine, whatever is pleaiant, good, or fair s 
All nature is thy province, life thy care : 
Thou mad'ft the world, and doft the world repair. 
Thou gladder of the mount of Cytheron, 
Increafe of Jove, companion of the fun j» 
If e'er Adonis toucliM thy tender heart. 
Have pity, Goddefs, for thou know'ft the fmart. 
Alas ! I have not words to tell my grief; 
To vent my forrow, would be forae relief; 
Light fufferings give us leifure to complain $ 
We groan, but cannot fpeak, in g^reater pain* 
O Goddefs, tell thyfelf what I would fay. 
Thou know'ft it, and I feel too much to pray. 
So grant my fuit, as 1 enforce my might ; 
At love to be thy champion, and thy knight j 
A fei-vant to thy fex, a flave to thee, 
A foe profeft to barren chaftity. 
Nor afk I fame or honour of the field, 
Nor choofe I more to vanquiih than to yield 5 
In my divme Emilia make me bled, 
Let fate, or partial chance, difpofe the reft : 
Find thou the manner, and the means prepare j. 
Pofleflion, more than conqueft, is my care. 
Mars is the warrior's god ; in him it lies. 
On whom he favours to confer the prize | 

With 



PALAMON AND ARCITE. 10$; 

With fmiling afpe^l you fcrenely move 

In your fifth orb, and rule the realm of love^ 

The fates but only fpin the coarfer clue. 

The fineft of the wool is left for you. 

Spire me but one fmall portion of the twine^. 

And let the lifters cut below your line t 

The reft among the rubbifti may they fweep, 

Or add it to the yarn of fome old mifer's heap«r 

But, if you this ambitious prayer deny> 

(A wiih, I grant, beyond mortality,) 

Then let me fink beneath proud Arcite^s- arms» 

And, I once dead, let him poftefs her charms. 

Thus ended he j then, with obfervance due» 

The facred incenfe on her altar threw : 

The curling fmoke mounts heavy from the fires ; 

At length it catches flame,, and in a blaze expires ^ 

At once the g^racious Goddefs gave the fign, . 

Her ftatue (hook, and trembled all the (hrine : 

Pleas'd Palamon the tardy omen took i 

For, fince the flames purfued the trailing fmoke^ 

He knew his boon was granted} but the day 

To diftance driven, and joy adjourn''d with long delay^* 

Now mom with rofy light had ftieakM the flcy,. 
Up rofe the iim, and up rofe Emily j 
AddrefsM her early fteps to Cynthia's fane,.. 
Is ftate attended b}f her maiden train, . 
Who bore the vefts that holy rites require,^ 
Incenfe, and odorous gums, and coverM fire. 
The plenteous horns with pleafant mead they crownj,. 
Nob wanted aught befides- ia honour of the moon. 

Noi¥ 



46« BRtbEI^'S POEMS. 

Now while the temple fmoakM with hall<m*d ftetrit. 
They waih the virgin in a living ftream } 
The fecret cerembhies I conceal » 
Uncouth, perhaps unla>^fiil» to reveal t 
But fuch they wer6 as pagan uf^ requirM> 
PcrformM by women when the men rctirM, 
Whofe eyes profanfe their chafte rayftcrious rites 
jMight titm to fcandal, or obfcene delights. 
AVell-meaners think no harm j but for the reft. 
Things facrcd they pervert, and filence is iht beft. 
Her (hinmg hair, tmcomb'd, was loofely fpread, 
A crown 6f maftl^fs oak adorn'd her head: 
When to tl*e fhrine apJ)roach'd, the fl)otlefs maid 
Had kindling fired on either altar laid 
(The rites were Arch as were obferv'd of old. 
By Sfcitfus in his Theban ftory told). 
Then kneeling with hdr hands acrofs hfr breaft. 
Thus lowly fhe preferred her chafte reqxieft. 

O Goddefs, haunter of the woodland green. 
To whom both heaven and earth and feas are feen j 
Queen of the nether fkies, where half the year 
Thy filver beams defccnd, and light the gloomy fpihere 5 
Goddefe of maids, and confcious of our hearts. 
So keep me from the vengeance of thy darts. 
Which Niobc^tf devoted iffoe felt. 
When hifllng through the ikies the feathcrM death 

were dektt; 
As I defire to IWe i "Aifgin life, 
Not iMovr thcf nttme of mother or of wife. 

Th 



I 



PALAMOK AiTD ARCITE. lo^r 

Thy votrefs from mf tender y>e«r» I am^ 

And Idft*. like thee » the wood» an4 fylvan gam^. 

Xike death, thou know^ft, I lumth^tht nuptial ftate^ 

And maA» the tyrant of ooit fex»^ I hate, 

A lowly fervant, but » lofty mate ^ 

Where bve is-d^ty on the femak fide ^ 

Ob their *s laeoe fenfual g«ft, and fought whh forly prid«» 

Now by diy triple /hape, as thou art fcen 

In hegma» earthy hell, and' every where a (pieea^^^ 

Grant this my firft. defiiv. f tot dHoord ccafit, ■ 

AhA nakat betwhct the ri««ls laiHng peaoe s 

Qtiench thein hot fire, or far from me rera^re* 

The flame, and turn it on fome other lovet 

0r^ if my frofwnin^ Aarrhave fo decreed. 

That one muft be reje^led, one fucceedj 

Make him my lord, within wfaofi faithful hntitt 

Is £xM my image, and who loVes me beft. 

But, oh! ev'n that avert ! Ichufeitnot^ 

But take it as the leaft' unhappy lot. 

A maid I am, and of thy virgin train ; 

Ob, let me ftill that fpotlefs name retain V 

Sreqpent the fottk^^ thy chafte will obey, 

And only make the beafts of chaee my prejr ?' 

The flames aleend on either #lt&f clear,' 
While thus theblamelefs maid addrefsM 'Mer prayer* . 
When lo ! the burning fire that ftione fo bright, 
Elew off, all fudden, with cxtinguiih'd light, . 
And left one altar dark, a little fpaee j 
Wliich tum'd felf^kindkd, and renewed tbt bhne ; 

Thi^' 



} 



«o» DR YD EN'S PQEMS. 

The other viftor-flame a moKiient ftood, 

Then fell) and lifelefs left th* exbnguiik'd wood; 

For ever lo<^, th' irrevocable liglit 

Forfook the blackening coals, and Amk to nigfat : 

At either end it whiftled as it flew. 

And as the brands were green, fo dropped the dew ^ 

Infe^M as k fell with fweat of fanguine hue. 

The maid from that ill omen tura'd her eyes, 
And with loud ihrieks and clamours rent the ikies^ 
Nor knew what %nify*d the boding fign. 
But found the powers difpleas'd, and fearM the wratb 
divine. . 

Then (hook the facred (hrine, and fudden light 
Sprung through the vaulted roof, and made the temple 
bright. 

The fower, behold ! the power in glory ihone> 
By her bent bow and her keen arrows known j 
The reft, a huntrefs iiTuing from the wood, 
Keclining on her cornel fpear ihe ftood. 
Then gracious thus began : Difmifs thy fear. 
And Heaven^s unchang*d decrees attentive hear : 
More powerful Gods have torn thee from my fid^^ 
Unwilling to refign, and doom'd a bride : 
The two contending knig^its are weighed above i 
One .Mars pn>te6ts, and one the Queen of Love i 
But which the man, is in the Thunderer^s breaft ^ 
This he pronouncM, 'tis he who loves thee beft. 
The fire that once extin£l revivM again, 
Foreihews the love allotted to remain i 

Farewcl r 



1 



PALAMON AND ARC If E, to^ 

Farewel ! (be faid, 'and vanifliM.froin the place ; 
The (heaF of arrows (hook, and rattled in Uie cafe* 
Aghaft at this, the royal virgin ftood, 
Difclaim^d, and now no more a fifter of the wood s 
But to the parting Goddefs thus fbe prayM ; 
Propitious ftill be prefent to my aid. 
Nor quite abandon your once favourM maid. 
Then fighing (he retnm'd ; but fmil'd betwixt. 
With hopes and fears, and joys with (brrows mixt* 

The next returning planetary hour 
Of Mars, who (harM the heptarchy of power. 
His fteps bold Arcite to the temple bent, 
T adore with pagan rites the power armipotent t 
Then proftrate, low before his altar lay. 
And raisM his manly voice, and thus began to pray s 
Strong God of Arms, whofe iron fceptre fways 
The freezing North, and Hyperborean feas. 
And Syhiin cokls, and Thracia's. winter c6a((. 
Where ftand thy fteeds, and thou art honourM mods 
There moft j but everj'-where thy power is known« 
The fortune of the light is all thy own : 
Terror is thine, and wild amazement, flung 
From out thy chariot, withers ev^n the ftrong : 
And difarray and (hameful rout -enfiie. 
And force is added to the fainting crew. 
AcknowledgM -as thou art, accept my prayer. 
If aught I have atcKievM deferve thy care t 
If to my utmoft power with fword and (hield ^' 

1 dar*d the death, unknowing how to yield, > 

And, falling in my rank, iUlUsLept the field : ^ 

That 



If DRTDEN'8 POEMS, 

Then let ray arms prevail, by thee fuftaiii*cl» 

That ISraiiy by conqtieft may be gaiaM. 

Have pity on my paiiM $ nor thofib unknovA 

To Mart, which, when a lov«r, were his owa. 

V^mis, the public care of all abov«, 

Thy ftubborn heart has fioften^d into love s 

^Dw by her blaadifliments and powerftri charnts» 

When yielded (he Uy curling in thy arms, 

£v*n by thy ihama, if fiiams it may be caird» 

"When Vulcan had thee in his net intluraird ; 

O envy'd ignominy, fweet difgrace, 

"When every God that faw thee wifliM thy place I 

By thofs dear pleaTures, aid my arms in fight. 

And make me conquer in my patron's right : 

For I am young, a novice in the trade. 

The fool of love, unpraftis'd to perfuade s 

And want the ibothing arts that catch the fair. 

But, caught myfdf, lie ftniggling in the Catrt^ 

And ihe I love, or laughs at all my pain, 

Or knows her w^th too weH ; and pays me with difdaia. 

For fure I am, unlefs I win in arms. 

To ftand excluded from Emilia's charms : 

Kor can my ftrength avail, unleTs by thee 

Endued by force, I gain the vi6lory } 

Then for the fire which warmM thy generous beart^ 

Pity thy fubjeA's pains, and equal fmart. 

So be the morrow's fweat and labour mine, 

The palm and honour of the cenqueft thine i 

Ttien (hall the war, and ftem debate, and ftrife 

lAimorul, be the bufipefs of my liie g 

And 



PALAMOV AND ARCITE. xtt 

And in thy fane, tht duRy fpoiU among. 

High oa.thc burni(h*d roof, my banner fliall be hung t 

KankM with my champion*8 bucklers, and below. 

With arms rcversM, th* atchievemcnts of my foe t 

And while thefe limbs the vital fpirit feeds. 

While day to night, and night to day fucceeds. 

Thy fmoking altar fhall be fat with food 

Of incenfe, and the grateful fteam of blood ; 

Burnt-offerings mom and evening ihall be thine | 

And fires eternal in thy temple fhine. 

The bufh of yellow beard, this length of hair. 

Which from my birth inviolate i bear, 

Guiltlefs of fteel, and from the razor free. 

Shall fall a plenteous crop, refervM for thee. 

So may my arms with vi6lory be "bleft, * 

I aik no more ; let fate difpofe the refl. 

The champion ceasM $ there followed in the cloil 
A hollow groan : a murmuring wind arofe ; 
The rings of iron, that on the doors were hung* 
Sent out a jarring found, and harfhly rung? 
The bolted gates flew open at the blaft. 
The Aorm rufh'd in, and Arcite flood aghaft t 
The flames were blown aiide, yet ihone they brlghty 
Fanned by the wind, and gave a ruffled light* 

Then from the ground a fcent began to rife^ 
Sweet-fmelling as accepted facrifice : 
This omen pleasM, and as the flames afpire 
With odorous incenfe Arcite heaps ihe fire s 
Nor wanted hymns to Mars, or heathen charms t 
At length the nod«ling ftatue dalh'd bis annti 

And 



lU DRYJOEN'S POEMS. * 

And with a fullcB ibvnd and feeble cry. 
Half fank, and half pronounced, the word of vi^lory.. 
For this, with foul devout, he thankM the God, 
And, of fiiccefs fecure, retumM to his abode. 

Thefe vows thus granted, raisM a ftrife above. 
Betwixt the God of War, and Queen of Love. 
She granting firft, had right of time to plead j 
But he had granted too, nor would recede. 
Jove was for Venus 5 but he fear'd his wife. 
And feemM unwilling to decide the ftrife i 
Till Satnrn from his leaden throne arofe. 
And found a way the difference to compoie : 
Though fparing of his grace, to mifchief bent. 
He feldom does a good with good intent. 
'Wayward, but wife $ by long experience taught 
To pleafe both parties, for ill ends, he fought.; 
For this advantage age from youth has won. 
As not to be outridden, though outrun. 
3y fortune he was now to Venus trin'd. 
And with ftem Mars in Capricorn was join*dt 
Of him difpofmg in his own abode. 
He foothM the Goddefs, while he guHM the God : 
-Ceaie, daughter, to complain, and ftint the ftrife | 
Thy Palamon ihall have hi« promised wife : 
And Mars, the lord of con<)ueft, in the fight 
With palm and laurel ihall adorn his knight. - 
^Wide is my courfe, nor turn I lo my place. 
Till length of time, and move with tardy pace. 
jMan feds me,^ when I prefs th^ etherial plains, 
2Ay hand is heavy, and the wound remains. 

Miac 



I 



PALAMON AkD ARCITE. 1x3 

Mine is the (hipwreck, in a watery fign ; 
And in an earthy, the daik dungeon mine. 
Cold fliivering agues, melancholy care. 
And bitter blarting winds, and poifonM air, 
Are mine, and wilful death, refulting from defpair. 
The throtling quinfey 'tis my ftar appoints. 
And rheumatifms afcend to rack the joints : 
Whon churls rebel againft their native prince, 
I arm their hands, and furnifh the pretence ^ 
And, houfrng in the lion's hateful fign, 
Bought fenates and deferting troops are mine. 
Mine is the privy poifoning 4 I command 
Unkindly ieafons, and ungrateful land. 
By me king's palaces are pulh'd to ground, 
And miners crufli'd beneath their mines are founcL 
'*Twas I flew Samfon, when the pillar'd hall 
Fell down, and cruih'd the many with the fall. 
My looking is the fire of pedilence. 
That fweeps at once the people and the prince. 
Now weep no more, but tnift thy grand fire's art. 
Mart (hall be pleas'd, and thou perform thy part. 
"*Tis ill, though different your complexions are. 
The family •f Heaven for men fhould war. 
Th' expedient pleas'd, where neither loft his right ; 
Mars had the day, and Venus had the night. 
The management they left to Chronos' care ; 
Now turn we to th' effeft, and fing the war. 

In Athens all was pleafure, mirth, and play. 
All proper to the fprxng, and fprightly May : 

Vol. IIL I Which 



114. DRYDEN'S POEMS. 

Which every foul infpirM with fuch delight, 
'Twas jelling all the day, and love at night. 
Heaven finilM, and gladded was the heart of man ; 
And Venus had the world as when it firft began. 
At length in fleep their bodies they coropofc. 
And dreamt the future fight, and early rofe. 

Now fcarce the dawning day began to fpring. 
As at a fignal given, the ftreets with clamours ring: 
At once the crowd arofe ; confusM and high 
Ev*n from the heaven was heard a fliouting cry ; 
For Mars was early up, and rous'd the Iky. 
The Gods came downward to behold the wars. 
Sharpening their fights, aud leaning from their ftars. 
The neighing of the generous horfe was heard> 
For battle by the bufy groom prepared, 
Ruftling of harnefs, rattling of the fhield. 
Clattering of armour, furbiih'd for the field. 
Crowds to the caftle mounted up the ftreet, 
Battering the pavement with their courfers' feet ? 
The greedy fight might there devour the gold 
Of glittering arms, too dazzling to behold : 
And poli(h''d fteel that caft the view afide, 
And crefted morions, with their plumy pride. 
Knights, with a long retinue of their fquires. 
In gaudy liveries march, and quaint attires. 
One lac'd th; helm, another held the lance : 
A third the (hining buckler did advance. 
The courfer paw'd the ground with reftlefs feet, 
And fnorting foamM, and champM the golden bit. 

7 The 



I 



■} 



PALaViON and ARCITE. 115 

The fmiths and amiourcrs on palfreys ride, 
Files in their hands, and hammers at their fide, 
And nails for loofen'd fpears, and thongs for fliields ' 

provide. 

The yeomen guard the ftreets, in feemly bands ; 
And clowns come crowding on, with cudgels in their 

hands. 
The trumpets, next the gate, in order plac'd, 
Attend the fign to found the martial blaft ; 
The palace-yard is fiU'd with floating tides, 
And the laft comers bear the former to the fides. 
The throng is in the midft : the common crew 
Shut out, the hall admits the better few 5 
In knots they (land, or in a rank they walk. 
Serious in afpe£);, earned: in their talk : 
Fa£lious, and favouring this or t"* other fide, 
As their ftrong fancy or weak reafon guide 5 
Their wagers back their wiflies ; numbei^ hold 
With the fair freckled king, and beard of gold : 
So vigorous are his eyes, fuch rays they caft. 
So pronainent his ^eagle^s beak is'placM. 
But moft their looks on the black monarch bend, 
fiis rifing mufcles and his brawn conrmiend j 
His double-biting axe and beamy fpear, 
Each a(kiag a gigantic force to rear. 
All fpoke as partial favoui* movM the mind t 
And, fafe themfelves, at others' coft divinM. 

Wak'd by the cries, th' Athenian chief arofe. 
The knightly fbrm9 of combat to difpofe | 

I * And 



ii6 DRYPEN^S POEMS. 

And pafllng through th' obfequioiis guards., he fate 
Confpicuous on a throne, fubiime in ftate j . 
There, for the two contending knights he fcnt : 
Arm'd cap-a-pee, with reverence low they bent ; 
He fmiJ'd on both, and with fuperior look 
Alike their offered adoration took. 
The people prefs on every fide, to fee 
Their awful prince, and hear his high decree. 
Then figning to their hei-alds with his hand. 
They gave his orders from their lofty ftand. 
Silence is thrice enjoinM 5 then thus aloud 
The king at arms befpeaks the knights and liftenii 
crowd. 
Our fovereign lord has ponderM in his mind 
The means to fpare the blood of gentle kind i 
And of his grace, and inborn clemency, 1 
He modifies his firft fevcre decree ! 
The keener edge of battle to rebate, 
The troops for honour fighting, not for hate. 
He wills, not death ihould terminate their ftrife j 
And wounds, if wounds enfue, be fhort of life : 
But iffucs, ere the fight, his dread command. 
That flings afar, and poniards hand to hand, 
Be banifh^d from the field ; that none ihall dare 
With fhortned fword to ftab in clofer war 5 
Bxit in fair combat fight with manly ftrength. 
Nor pulh with biting point, but ftrike at length. 
The touniey is allowM but one career, 
Of the tough aih, with the iharp-grinded fpear, 

7 B 



PALAMON AND ARCITE. 1/7 
But knights unhorsM may rife from off the plain, 
And fight on foot their honour to regain ; 
Nor, if at mifchief taken, on the ground 
Be /lain, but prifoners to the pillar bound, 
At either barrier plac'd j nor (captives made) 
Be freed, or arm'd anew the fight invade. 
The chief of either fide, bereft of life. 
Or yielded to his foe, concludes the ftrifc. 
Thus dooms the lord : now valiant knights and young 
Fight each his fill with fwoVds and maces long. 

The herald ends : the vaulted firmament 
With loud acclaims and vaft applaufe is rent : 
Heaven guard a prince fo gracious and fo-good. 
So juft, and yet fo provident of blood ! 
This was the general cry. The trumpets found. 
And warlike fymphony is heard around. 
The marching troops through Athens take their way. 
The great earl-marlhal orders their airay. 
The fair from high the pafllng pomp behold ; 
A rain of flowers is from tlie windows rolPd. 
The cafements are with golden tiflue fpread. 
And horfes hoofs, for earth, on filken tapeftry tread j 
The king goes midmoft, and the rivals ride 
In equal rank, and clofe his either fide. 
Next after thefe, there rode the royal wife. 
With Emily, the caufe and the reward of ftrife. 
The following cavalcade, by three and three. 
Proceed by titles marfhal'd in degree. 
Thus through the fouthern gate thty take their way,. 
And at the lift arriv'd ere prime of day.. 

1.3 Tlier^ 



ii8 DRYDEN'S POEMS. 

There, parting from the king, the chiefs divide^ 
And, wheeling Eaft and Weft, before their many ride 
Th* Athenian monarch mounts his throne on high^ 
And after him the queen and Emily : 
Next thefe the kindred of the crown are grac'd 
With nearer feats, and lords by ladies placM. 
Scarce were they feated, when with clamoiirs loud 
In rufliM at once a rude promifcuou* crowd ; 
The guards and then each other overbenr, 
And in a moment throng the fpacious theatre. 
Now-changM the jarring noiie to whlfpers low. 
As winds forfaking feas more foftly blow j 
When at the weftern gate, on which the car 
Is placM aloft, that bears the God of war, 
Proud Arcite entering arm'd before his train. 
Stops at the barrier, and divides the plain. 
Red was his banner, and difplay'd abroad 
The bloody colours of his patron God. 

At that felf moment enters Palamon 
The gate of Venus, and the rifmg-fun j 
WavM by the wanton winds, his banner flics,. 
All maiden white, and fliares the people's eyes.. 
From Eaft to Weft, look all the world around ^ 
Two troops fo matched were never to be found : 
Such bodies 'built for ftrength, of equal age. 
In ftature fizM j fo proud an equipage : 
The niceft eye could no diftin^lion make. 
Where lay th' advantage, or what fide to take. 

Thus rang'd, the herald for the laft proclaims 
A iiUnce, while they anfwer^d to their names : 

Fo 



] 



PALAMON AND ARCITE. n^ 

For Co the king decreed, to fhun the care, 

The fraud of mufters falle, the common bane of war. 

The tale was juft, and then the gates were closed 5 

And chief to chief, and troop to troop opposM. 

The heralds laft retired, and loudly cry'd, 

The fortune of the field be fairly try'd. 

At this, the challenger with fierce defy 
His trumpet founds ; the challenged makes reply : 
With clangor rings thefield, refounds the vaulted fky. 
Their vizors clos'd, their lances in the relt. 
Or at the helmet pointed, or the creft ; 
They vanifli from the barrier, fpeed the race. 
And fpurring fee decreafe the middle fpace. 
A cloud of fmoke envelops either hoft. 
And all at once the combatants are loll : 
Darkling they join adverfe, and (hock unfeeriy 
Courfers with courfers juftlinc;, men with men : 
As labouring in eclipfe, a while they ftay. 
Till the next blaft of wind rcftores the day. 
They look anew : the beauteous form of fight 
Is changM, and war appears a grizly fight. 
Two troops in fair array one moment fhow'd. 
The next, a field with fallen bodies ftrow'd : 
Not half the number in their feats are found 5 
■ But men and deeds lie groveling on the ground. 
The points of fpeajrs are ftuck within the fiiield. 
The fteeds without their riders fcour the field. 
The knights unhorsM, on foot renew the fight j 
The glittering faulchions caft a gleaming light t 

I 4 Hauberks 



i»o DRYDEN'S POEMS* 

Hauberks and helms are hew*d with many a wound 
Out fpins the ftreaming blood, and dies the ground.. 
The mighty maces with i'uch hafte defcend. 
They break the bones, and make the folid armour bem 
This thrufls amid the throng with furious force j 
Down goes, at once, the horfeman and the hocfe t 
That courfer fturables on the fallen fteed. 
And floundering throws the rider o'er his head^ 
One rolls along, a foot-ball to his £bes ; 
One with a broken ti'uncheon deals his blows. 
This halting, this difabled with his wound. 
In triumph led, is to the pillar bound. 
Where by the king's award he muft abide ;. 
There goes a captive led oa t"* other fide. 
By fits they ccafc; and, leaning on the lance,. 
Take breatli a while, and to new fight advance.. 

Full oft llie rivals met, and neillier fpar'd 
His utmoft force, and each forgot to wai*d. 
The head of this was to the faddle bent^ 
The other backward to the crupper fent j 
Both were by turns unhors'd ; the jealous blows- 
Fall thick and heavy, when on foot they clofe. 
So deep their faulchions bite, that ever)- ftroke 
Pierc*d to the quick j and equal wounds they gave a 

took. 
Borne far afunder by the tides of men. 
Like adamant and fteel they meet again. 

So when a tiger fucks the bullock's blood,. 
A famifh'd lion iiTuing from the wood 
Roars lordly fierce, and challenges the food. 

Ea 



PALAMON andtARCITE. t2t 

Each claims pofleilion, neither will obey, 
But both their paws are faften'd on the prey; 
They bite, they tear 5 and while in vain they ftrive, 
The fwains come arm'd between, and both to dillanCe 
drive. 

At length, as fate foredoomM, and all things tend 
By courfe of time to thtir appointed end ; 
So when the fuD to Weft was far declin'd^ 
And both afreih in mortal battle join'd. 
The fkrong Emetrius came in Arcite's aid. 
And Palamon with odds was overlaid : 
For, turning (hort, he ftruck with all his might 
Full on the helmet of th' unwary knight. 
Deep was the wound j he ftagger'd with the blow>. 
And turned him to his unexpeftcd foe f 
Whom with fuch force he ftruck, he fellM him down,. 
And cleft the circle of his golden crown. 
But Arcite's men, who now prevaird in fight,. 
Twice ten at once furround the fingle knight : 
O'erpower'd, at length, they force him to the ground^ 
Unyielded as he was, and to the pillar bound ; 
And king^Lycurgus, while he fought in vain 
His friend to free, was tumbled on tlie plain. 

Who now laments but Palamon, corapeird 
No more to try the fortune of the field ! 
And, worfe than death, to view with- hateful eyes 
His rivars conqueft, and renounce the prize ! 

The royal judge on his tribunal placed, 
Who had beheld the fight from firft.to laft,. 

Bad 



ii» DRYDEN'S POEMS. 

Bad ceafe the war; pronouncing from on high, 
Arcite of Thebes had won the the beauteous Emily. 
The found of trumpets to the voice reply'd, J 

And round the royal lifts the heralds cry'd, > 

Arcite of TheUes has won the beauteous bride. J 

The people rend the ikies with vaft applaufe; 
All own the chief, when fortune owns the caufe. 
Arcite is own'd ev'n by the Gods above. 
And conquering Mars infults the Queen of Love. 
So laughM he, when the rightful Titan fail'd. 
And Jove's ufurping arms in heaven prevailed. 
Laugh'd all the powers who favour tyranny $ 
And all the ftanding army of the (ky. 
But Venus with dejefted eyes appears. 
And weeping on the lifts diftilPd her tears 5 
Her will refusM, which grieves a woman moft, 
And, in her champion foird, the caufe of Love is loft. 
Till Saturn faid, Fair daughter, now be ftill. 
The bluftering fool has fatisfy'd his will ; 
His boon is given ; his knight has gain'd the day. 
But loft the prize, th' airears are yet to pay. 
Thy hour is come, and mine the care fhall be 
To pleaie thy knight, and fet thy promife free. 

Now while the heralds run the lifts around. 
And Arcite, Arcite, heaven and earth refound ; 
A miracle (nor lefs it could be calPd) 
Their joy with unexpcftcd forrow pall'd. 
The vi6lor knight had laid his helm afide, 
Part for his cafe, the greater part for pride ; 

Bare- 



PALAMON AND ARCITE. 123 

Bare-headed, popularly low he bow'd, 

And paid the falutations of tbe crow'd. 

Then fpurring at full fpced, mn endlong ort 

Where Thefeiis fate on his imperial throne ; 

Furious he drove, and upward caft his eye, 

Where next the queen was placed his Emily j 

Then pailing to the faddle-bow he bent : 

A fwect regard the gracious virgin lent 

(For women, to the brave an eafy prey. 

Still follow Fortune where (he leads the way) : 

Juft then, from earth fprung out a flafliing fire. 

By Pluto fent, at Saturn's bad defire : 

The ftartling ftced was feizM with fudden fright,. 

And, bounding, o'er the pommel caft the knight; 

Forward he flew, and, pitching on his head, 

He quiver'd with his feet, and lay for dead. 

Black was his countenance in a little fj^ice. 

For all the blood was gathered in his face. 

Help was at hand : they rear'd him from the ground^ 

And from his cumbrous arms his limbs unbound; 

Then lancM a vein, and watchM returning breath j, 

It cam^, but cloggM with fymptoms of his death. 

The faddle-bow the noble parts had preft. 

All bruised and mortify'd his manly breaft. 

Him ftiir entranced, and in a litter laid. 

They bore from field, and to his bed conveyed. 

At length he wakM, and, with a feeble cry. 

The word he firft pronouncM was Emily. 

Meantime the king, though inwardly he-mourn'd. 
In 'pomp triumphant to the town returned. 

Attended ^ 



J24 DR YD EN'S POEMS. 

Attended by the chiefs who fought the field 

(Now friendly mix''d;, and in one troop compell'd). 

Composed his looks to counterfeited cheer, 

And bade them not for Arcite's life to fear. 

But that which gladded all the warrior-train, 

Though raoft were forely wounded, none were (lain. 

The furgeons foon defpoil'd them of their ai'ms, 

And fbme with falves they cure, and fome with charms 5 

Foment the bi-uifes, and the pains afluage. 

And heal their inward hurts with fovereign draughts of 

fage. 
The king in perfon vifits all around, 
Comforts the Tick, congratulates the found ; 
Honours the princely chiefs, rewards the refl". 
And holds for thrice three days a royal feaft. 
None was difgracM j for falling is no fhame; 
And cowardice alone is lofs of fame. 
The venturous knight is from the faddle thrown j 
But 'tis the fault of fortune, not his own, 
If crowds and palms the conquering fide adorn. 
The vi6lor under better ftars was born ; 
The brave man feeks not popular applaufe, 
Nor overpowered with arms deferts his caufe ; 
Unfham'd, though foii'd, he does the beft he can ;. 
Force is of brutes, but honour is of man. 

i Thus Thefeus fmil'd on all with equal grace i, 
And each was fet according to his place. 
"With eafe were reconciled the differing parts,. 
For envy nevsr dwelU in noble hearts. 

At 



PALAMoN and ARCITE. 125 

At length they took their leave, the time expir'd j 
Well pleas'd, and to their feveral homes retired. 
"Mean while the health of Arcite ftill impairs ; 
From bad proceeds to worfe, and mocks the leeches cares | 
Swoln is his breaft ; his inward pains increafe, 
All means are usM, and all without fuccefs. 
The clotted blood lies heavy on his heart, 
Corrupts, and there remains in fpite of art : 
Nor breathing veins, nor cupping^, will prevail ; 
All outward remedies and inward fnil : 
The mold of nature's fabric is deftroy*d. 
Her veffels difcomposM, her virtue void : 
The bellows of his lungs begin to fwell : 
All out of frame is every fecret cell, 
Nor can the good receive, nor bad expel. 
Thofe breathing organs thus within oppreft, 
With venom foon didcnd the finews of his breaft, 
Nought profits him to fave abandon'd life, 
Nor vomit's upward aid, nor downward laxative. 
The midmoft region batter'd and deftroy'd. 
When nature cannot work, th' effeft of art is void, 
For phyfic can but mend our crazy ftate, 
Patch an old building, not a new create. 
Arcite is doom'd to ^e in all his pride, 
Muft leave his youth, and yield his beauteous bridc^ 
Gain'd hardly, againft right, and unenjoy'd. 
When 'twas declar'd all hope of life was paft, 
Confcience (that of all phyfic works the laft) 
Caus'd him to fend for Emily in hafte. 

With 



I 






J26 ^ DRYDEN'S POEMS. 
'With her, at his defire, came Palamon 5 
Then on his pillow raisM, he thus begun. 
IJo language can exprefs the fmalleft part 
Of what I feel, and TufFer in my heart. 
For you, whom bcft I love and valu£ moft $ 
But to your fervice I bequeath my ghoft 5 
Which from this mortal t)ody when unty'd, 
Unfeen, unheard, (hall hover at your fide; 
Nor fright you waking, nor your fleep ofFendy 
But wait ofHcious, and your fteps attend : 
How I have lov'd, excufe my faltering tongue. 
My fpirits feeble, and my pains are ftrong : 
This I may fay, I only grieve to die 
Bccaufe I lofe my charming Emily : 
To die, when Heaven had put you in my power. 
Pate could not chufe a more malicious hour! 
What greatei' curfe could envious fortune give. 
Than juft to die, when I began to live ! 
Vain men, how vaniftiing a blife we crave. 
Now warm in love, now withering in the grave ! 
Never, O never more to fee the fun! 
Still dark, in a damp vault, and flill alone ! 
This fate is common 5 but I lofe my breath 
Near blifs, and yet not blefs'd before,my death. 
Farewel ; but take me dying in yoilr arms, 
'Tis all I can enjoy of all your charms : 
This hand I cannot Lut in death refign 5 
Ah ! could I live ! but while I live 'tis mine. 
I feel my end approach, and thus embraced. 
Am pleas'd to die j but hear me fpeak my laft, 

Ah! 



PALAMON AND ARCITE. 117 

Ah ! my fweet foe, for you, and you alone, 

I broke my faith with injurM Palamon. 

But Jove the fenfe of right and wrong confounds, 

Strong love and proud ambition have no bounds. 

And much I doubt, (hould heaven my life prolong, 

I Oiould return to juftify my wrong : 

For, while my former flames remain within, 

Kepentance is but want of power to fm. 

With mortal hatred I purfued his life, 

Nor he, nor you, were guilty of the ftrife : 

Nor I, but as I lovM ; yet all combined, 

Your beauty, and my impotence of mind ; 

And his concurrent flame, that blew my fire j 
For flill our kindred fouls had one defire. 
He had a moment's right in point of time ; 
Had I fccn firft, then his had been the crime. 
Fate made it mine, and juftifyM his right j 
Nor holds this earth a more deferving knight. 
For virtue, valour, and for noble blood. 
Truth, honour, all that is comprizM in good ; 
So help me Heaven, in all the world is none 
So worthy to be lov'd as Palamon. 
He loves you too, wi th fuch an holy fire. 
As will not, cannot, byt with life expire : 
Our vowM affeftions both have often tryM, 
Nor any love but yours could ours divide. 
Then, by my lovers inviolable band. 
By my long fuffering, and my fhort command. 
If e*er you plight your vows when I am gone. 

Hare pity on the faithful Palamon. 

This 



ii-S DR YD EN'S POEMS. 

This was his laft ; for death came on amam» 
And exei:cis'd below his iron neign } 
Then upward to the feat of life he goes z 
Senfii fled before him, what he touch'd he froze : 
Yet could he not his clofmg eyes withdraw, 
Though lefs and lefs of Emily he (aw ; 
So, fpeechlefs, for a little fpace he lay ; 
Then grafp'd the hand he hehl, and fighM his foul awj 

But whither went his foul, let fuch relate 
Who fearch the feci-ets of the future ftate : 
Divines can fay but what themfelves believe; 
"Strong proofs they have, but not demonih*ative : 
J^or, were all plain, then all fides muft agree. 
And faith itfelf be loft in certainty. 
To live uprightly then is fure the beft. 
To fave ourfclves, and not to damn the reft. 
The foul of Arcite went where heathens go^ 
Who better live than we, though lefs they know. 

In Palamon a manly grief appears 4 
Silent, he wept, aiham'd to (hew his tears 4 
Emilia (hriek'd but once, and then, bpprefs'd 
With forrow, funk upon her lover's breaft : 
Till Thefeus in his arms convey'^d with care. 
Par from fo fad a fight, the fwooiyng fair. 
'Twere lofs of time her forrow to relate^ 
111 bears the fcx a youthful lover's fate. 
When juft approaching to the nuptial ftate. 
But, like a 'low-hung cloud, it rains fo faft, 
Thit all at oace it falls, and cannot laft. 



\ 



PALAMON AND ARCITE. 1*9 

The face of things is changM, and Athefts now. 
That laughM fo lat;e, becomes the fcene of woe : 
Matrons and maids, both fexes, every ftate. 
With tears lament the knight's untimely fate. 
Nor greater grief in falling Troy was feen 
For HeAor's death ; but He6lor was not then. 
Old men with dull deform'd their hoary hair. 
The women beat their breafts, their cheeks they tare. 
Why would'ft thou go, with one confent they cry. 
When thou had'ft gold enough, and Emily. 

Thefeus himfelf, who ihould have cheer'd the grief 
Of others, wanted now the fame relief. 
Old Egeus only could revive his fon. 
Who various changes of the world had known t 
And ftrange vicillitudes of human fate, 
"Still altering, never in a fteady ftate ; 
Good after .ill, and after pain delight ; 
Alternate like the fcenes of day and night: 
Since every man who lives is bom to die. 
And none can boaft iincere felicity. 
With equal mind what hap[>ens let us bear. 
Nor joy nor grieve too much for things beyond our care. 
Like pilgrims to th* appointed place we tend ; 
The world *s an inn, and death the joumey^S end. 
Evil kings but play $ and when their part is done, 
Son^ other, worfe or better, mount the throne. 
With words like thefe the crowd was fatisfy'd, 
And ib they would have been, had Thefeus dy*d. 
Vol. m K But 



1 



130 DRYDEN'S POEMS. 

But he, their king, was labouring ia his mind, 

A fitting place for fsneral pomps to find. 

Which were In honour of the dead defign*d. 

And, after long debate, at laft he found 

(As love itfelf had marlcM the fpot of ground) 

That grove for ever green, that confcious land* 

Where he with Palamon fought Itand to hand t 

That where he fed his amonbus defires 

With foft eonaplaints, and felt his hotteft fires^ 

There other flames might wafte his earthly part* 

And bum his limbs, where love had bumM his heart. 

This once refolv'd, the peafants were enjoined 
Sere-wood, and firs, and dodder'd oaks to £nd. 
With founding axes to the grove they go. 
Fell, fplit, and lay the fuel on a row, 
Vulcanian food : a bier is next prepared. 
On which the lifelefs body ihould be rearM, 
Covered with cloth of gold, on which was laid 
The corpfe of Arcite, in like robes array'd. 
White gloves were on his hands, and on his head 
A wreath of laurel, mix*d with myrtle fpread. 
A fword keen-edg'd within his right he held. 
The warlike emblem of the conquered field ; 
Bare was his manly vifage on the bier : 
Menac^'d his countenance 5 ev'n in death feverc. 
Then to the palace-hall they bore the knight. 
To lie in folemn ftate, a public fight. 
Groans, cries, and bowlings, fill the crowded placfl^ 
And unafFeftcd forrow fat on every face. 

7 Sad 



i 



a accoramg to nis nign aegrec, 
cl, that bore him living to the fight, 1 

pp'd with polifh'd ftecl, all fliining bright, V 
er'd with th' atchievements of the knight. ^^ 3 



PALAMOK AND ARCITE. 131 

Palamon above the reft appears, 
ble garments, dewM with gufhing'tears : 
mbum locks on either flioulder flowed, 
ch to the funeral of his friend he vow'd : 
Emily, as chief, was next his fide, 
rgin-widow, and a mourning bride. 
, that the pnncely obfequles might be 
jrm'd according to his high degree, 
fteed, 
trapp\ 
cover'd ^ 

riders rode abreaft, and one his fhield, 
lance of cornel-wood another held ; 
third his bow, and, glorious to behold, 
coftly quiver, all of bumilhM gold. 
nobleft of the jQrecians next appear, 
, weeping, on their fhoulders bore the bier j 
h iobcr pace they march'd, and often ftaid, 
I through the mafter-ftreet the corpfe conveyM. 
houfes to their tops with black were fpread, 
I ev'n the pavements were with mourning hid. 
-tight fide of the pall old Egeus kept, 
I on the left the royal Theftus wept ; 
1 bore a golden bowl of work divine, 
h honey fill'd, and milk, and mix'd with ruddy wine. 
n Palamon, the kinfman of the flain, 
I after kirn appearM th' illuftrious train. 
grace the pomp, came Emily the bright, 
h cover'd fire^ the funeral pile to light. 

K X With 



131 DRYDEN'S POEMS. 

With high devotion was the fenrice made. 

And all the rites of pagan-honour paid i 

So lofty was the pile, a Parthian bow. 

With vigour drawn, muft fend the (haft below. 

The bottom was full twenty fathom broad. 

With crackling draw beneath in due proportion 6xow*d« 

The fabric feem'd a wood of rifing green. 

With fulphur and bitumen caft between. 

To feed the flames : the trees were un6luou8 fir. 

And mountain afh, the mother of the fpear ; 

The mourner-yew and builder oak were there : 

The beech, the fwiroming alder, and the plane. 

Hard box, and linden of a fofter grain, 

And laurels, which the Gods for conquering chiefs 

ordain. 

How they were rank'd, fliall reft untold by me. 
With namelefs nymphs that liv'd in every tree } 
Nor how the dryads, or the v/oodland train^ 
Difherited, ran howling o'er the plain :. 
Nor how the birds to foreign feats repairM, 
Or beafts, that bolted out, and faw the foreft bar'd t 
Nor how the ground, now cleared, with ghaftly fright 
Beheld the fudden fun, a ftranger to the light. 

The ftraw, as firft I faid, was laid below t 
Of chips and fere-wood was the fecond row $ 
The third of greens, and timber newly fell'd 5 
The fourth high ftage the fragrant odours held^ 
And pearls, and precious ftones, and rich array ; 
In midft of which, embalmed, the body lay. 

7 The 



} 



I 



PALAMON AND ARCITE. 133 

The fervicc fiing, the maid with mourning eyes 
The ftubbic fir'd j the fmouldcring flames arifc : 
This office done, Hie funk upon the ground ^ 
But what (he fpoke, recovered from her fwoon, 
I want the wit in moving words to drefs ; 
But by themfelves the tender fex may guefs. 
•While the devouring fire was burning faft. 
Rich jewels in the flame the wealthy caft j 
And fome their fhields, and fbme their lances threw. 
And gave their warrior's ghoft a warrior's due. 
Full bowls of wine, of honey, milk, and blood. 
Were pour'd upon the pile of burning wood. 
And hiffing flames receive, and hungry lick the food. 
Then thrice the mounted fquadrons ride around 
The fire, and Arcite's name they thrice refound j 
Hail, and farewel, they (houted thrice amain, 
Thrice facing to the left, and thrice they turn'd again : 
Still as they tumM, they beat their clattering ihields j 
The women mix their cries ; and clamour fills the fields*^ 
The warlike wakes continued all the night. 
And funeral games were play'd at new returning light j. 
Who naked wreftled beft, beimearM with oil, 
Oj-who with gauntlets gave or took the foil, 
I will not tell you, nor would you atfend i 
Bat briefly hafle to my long (loin's end. 

I pafs the reft j the year was fully moum'd. 
And Palamon long fince to Thebes returned i 
When, by the Grecians' general confent. 
At Athens Thefeus held his parliament : 

. K 3 Among 



134 DR YD EN'S POEMS. 

Ani6ng the laws that pafs^d,, it was decreed. 

That conquer *d Thebes from bondage ihouldbe.freed^^ 

Refer vi'ng homage to th' Athenian throne. 

To which the fovereign fummon'd PaIamon« 

Unknowing of the caufc, he took his way. 

Mournful in mind, and ftill in black array» 

The monarch mounts, the throne, axid, placed on high,. 
Commands into the court the beauteous Emily : 
So caird, (he came ; the fenate rofe, and paid 
Becoming reveiencc to the royal maid. 
And firft foft whifpers through th' aflembly went : 
With filent wonder then they watch'd th' event : 
All hufh'd, the king arofe wirii awful grace, 
Deep thought was in his breaft, and. counfel in hisface» 
At length he figh'd ; and, having firft prepared 
Th' attentive audience, thus his will declar'd. 

The Caufe and fpring of motion, from above. 
Hung down on eartl) the golden chain of love : 
Great was th^efTeft, and high was his intent. 
When peace among the jarring feeds he fent. . 
Fire, flood, and earth, and air, by this were bound, . 
And Love, the common link, the new creation crown'd^ 
The chain ftill holds j for, though the fornis decay,^ 
Eternal matter never wears away t 
The fame firft mover certain bounds has placM, 
How long thofe perifhable forms fhall laft : 
Nor can they laft beyond the time aftignM 
By that aH-fceing and all-making mind : 
Shorten their hours they may j for will is free ; 
But never pafs th' appointed deftiny. 



PAtAM6^ AND A'kCiT'E, lis 

So men opprefsM, when weary of their breath, 

Throw off the burden, and fubom their death. 

Then, fincc thofe forms begin, and have their end. 

On fome unaltered caofe they fare depend: 

Parts of the whole are we ; but God the whole j 

Who gives us life and animating foul : 

For nature cannot from a part derive 

That being, which the whole can only give : 

He perfeft, ftablc j but imperfeft we, 

Subje61 to change, and drfferent in degree ; 

Plants, beafts, amd man 5 and, as our organs are. 

We more ©r lefs of his perfe61ion fliarc* 

But by a long defcent, th* etherial Hre 

Corrupts ; and forms, the mortal part, expire : 

As he withdraws his. virtue, ib they pafs. 

And the (ame matter makes another'mafs^ : 

This law thr' Omnrfcient Power was pFeas'cl to give^ 

That every kind Ihould by fticceflion live : 

That individuals die, hFs will ordains j 

The propag^ed fpecies ftHl remain^. ' 

The monarch oak, the patriarch of the trees, 

Shoots rifing up, and fpreads by flow degrees 5, 

Tbiee ccntmries he grows,, and three he ftays^ 

Supreme in ftate, and fn three more decays j, 

So wdars the paving pebble in the ftreet, 

And towns and towers their fatal periodb meet t 

So rivers, rapid once, now naked tie, 

Forfaken of their fprings j and leave their channel* dry* 

So man, at iirft a drop, dilates wfth heat, 

Tbcnj fojrin'd} the Uttk heart begins to beat ; 

K. 4 Sccset 



)3« DRYDEN^S POEMS. 

Secret he feeds, unknowing in the cell ; 

At length, for hatching ripe, he breaks the fhelTy. 

And ftruggles into breath, and cries for aid ^ 

Then, helplefs, in his mother's lap is laid. 

He creeps, he walks, and, iffuing into man, 

Gnidges their life, from whence his own began r 

Recklefs of laws, affe^ls to rule alone. 

Anxious to reign, and reftlefs on the throne t 

Firft vegetive, then feels,, and reafons laft ; 

Kich of three fouls, and lives all three to wade. 

Some thus j but thoufands more m flower of age r 

For few arrive to ran the latter ftage. 

Sunk in the firft, in battle fome are flam, 

And others wheImM beneath the flormy main. 

What makes all this, but Jupiter the king. 

At whofe command .we perifh, and we fpring ^ 

Then *ti8 our bcft> fince thiis ordain'd to die, 

To make « yirtue of neccffity. 

Take what he gives, fince to rebel is vain ; 

The bad grows better, which wc well fulbin ; 

And could we chufe the lime, and chufe aright, 

'Tis heft to die, our honour at the height. 

When we have done our anceflors no fhame. 

But fem'd our fritnds, and well fecwr'd our fame^ 

Then (hould we wifh our happy life to clofe. 

And leave no more for fortune to difpofe : 

So fhould we make our death a glad relief 

From future (h: me, from ficknefs, and from griefs' 

Enjoying while we live the prefent hour, 

Aad dying in our excellence and flowcrt 

Then 



PAI.AMON AKD ARCTTE. ijy 

Then round our death-bed every &iend (kould nui» 

And joyoils of our conqucft early won i 

While the malicious world with envious tears 

Should grudge our Kappy end, and wi(h it thein* 

Since then our Arcite is with honour dead, 

Why ihould we mourn, that he fo foon is freed^ 

Or call untimely, what the Gods decreed ? 

With grief as juft, a friend may be deplor'd. 

From a foul prifon to free air rcftorM. 

Ought he to thank his kinfmen or his wife. 

Could tears recal him into wretched life ? 

Their forrow hurts themfelves ; on him is loft j, 

And, worfe than both, offends his happy ghoft. 

What then remaras, but, after paft annoy. 

To take the good viciflitude of joy ? 

To thank the gracious Gods, for what they give^ ' 

PvfTefs our fouls, and, while we live, to live ?. 

Ordain we then two forrowp to combine. 

And in one pdint th^ extremes of grief to join ^ 

That thence refulting joy may be renewed. 

As jarring notes in harmony conclude. . . > 

Then I propofe that Palamon ftiall be 

In marriage joined with beauteous Emily ; ^ 

For which already I have gain'd tV aflent 

Of my free people in full parliament.* 

Long love to her has borne the faithful knighf, ' ' 

And well defery'd, had fortune ckmc him right s 

'TIs time to mend her fault ; fince Emily 

By Arcite*s death from former vows is fiee ; 

If 



y^ D R YD E N'S POEMS. 

If yout fair fifter, ratify th^ accord. 

And take him for your hu(band and yotir \ordy 

'Tis no dlflkononr to confer your grace 

On one defcelhded from a royal race: 

And were he lefs, yet years of fervice paft 

From grateful fouls exaft reward at laft : 

Pky is Heaven^s and your's j nor can (he find 

A throne To foft as in a woman'^s mind. 

He faid $ flie blu/hM ; smd, as o'eraw^d by might, 

Secm'd"to give Thefeus what (he gave the knight* 

Then turning to the Thcban thus he ftJd j 

Small arguments are needful to perfnade 

Your temper to comply with my command ; 

And fpeaking dvus, he gave Emilia^s hand. 

Smil'd Venus, to behold her own true knight 

Obtain the conqueft, though he loft the fight y 

And blefsM wkh nuptial blifs the fweet laborious nig 

Eros, and Anteros, on either fide. 

One firM the bridegroom, and one wantt'*d the bride ^ 

And long-attending Hymen from above, 

ShowerM on the bed the whc^e Idalian grove» 

All of a tenor was their after-life. 

No day difcolour^d with domeftic fbrife } 

No )eak)ufy, but mutual truth believed,, 

Secure repofe, and kindnefs undeceived* 

Thus Heaven, beyond the com^fs of his tfaoughty 

Sent him the blefHng he fo dearly bought. 

So may the Queen of Love long duty blefs. 
And all true lovers find the fane i«iccef<»«. 

THE 



light, y 



I n9 1 
THE 

COCK AND THE FOX. 

OR, 
The tale of the NUN'S PRIEST. 

'T^ HERE liv'd, as authors tell, in days of yorCy 

'*• A widow ibinewhat old, and very poor ; 
Deep in her cell lier cottage lonely ftbod> 
Well thatehM, and under covert of a wood^ 
This dowager, on whom, my talc I found. 
Since laft (he laid her huiband in the ground, 
A fimple (ober life, in patience, led^ 
And had but juft enough to buy her bread : 
But hufwifing the little Heaven had lent. 
She duly paid a groat for quarter i-ent j 
And pinched her belly, with her daughters two,. 
To bring the year about with nruch ado. 

The cattle in her horoeftead were three fows. 
An ewe caird Mally, and three brinded cows. 
Her parlour-window (hick with herbs around. 
Of favoury fmell 5 and ni/hes ftrewM the grpunct- 
A maple-drefler in her hall (he had, 
On which fiill many a (lender meal (he made j 
For no delicious morfel pafs'd her throat ; 
According to her cloth (he cut her coat : 
No poignant (auce (lie knew, nor coftly treaty 
Her hunger gave a reir(h to her meat : 

A fparini^ 



340 DRYtEN'S POEMS. 

A fparing diet did her health aflTure ; 
Or, (icky a pepper poifet was her cure. 
Before the day was done, her ^oik (he iped. 
And never went by candle-light to bed : 
With exercife flie fweat ill humours out. 
Her dancing was not hinderM by the gout. 
Her poverty was glad ^ her heart content i 
Kor knew (he what the fpleen or vapours meant. 

Of wine (he never tafted through the year. 
But white and black was all her homely cheir : 
Brown bread, and milk (but firft (he (kimM her bowls' 
And ra(her8 of (ingM bacon on the coals. 
On holy days an egg, or two at moil j 
But her ambition never reached to roaft. 

A yard (he had with pales tnclosM about. 
Some high, fome low, and a dry ditch without. 
Within this homeftead, liv'd, without a peer» 
For crowing loud, the noble Chanticleer ; 
So hight her cock, whofe (inging did furpaff 
The merry notes of organs at the mafs. 
More ceitain was the crowing of the cock 
To number hours, than is an abbey-clock; 
And fooner than the mattin-bell was rung. 
He clapM his wings upon his rooil, and fung : 
For when degrees fifteen afcended right. 
By fure inftin£l he knew 'twas one at night. 
High was his comb, and coral -red withal. 
In dents embattled like a caftle wall ; 
His bill was raven-black, and (hone like jet ; 
Blue were his legSj and orient were bis^ feet : 

Whit 



The cock and the FOX. i4t 

; were his nails, like filver to behold, 

4y glittering like the burniih'd gold. 

;entle cock, for folace of his life, 

(Tes had, befides his lawful wife ; 

il, that fpares no king, though ne^er (b good, 

they were all of bis own flefli and blood, 

:ers both by fire and niother*t fide; 

ire their likeneft ihowM them near ally*d, 

ike the worft, the monarch did no mort^ 

ill the Ptolemys bad done before t 

inceft is for intereft of a nation, 

ade no (in by holy difpenfation. 

ines have been maintained by this alone, 

by their common uglinefs are known, 
pailing this as from oyr tale apart, 
Partlet was the fovereign of his heart t 

in U>ve, outrageous in his play, 
:hef d her a hundred times a day : 
e, that was not only paifing fair, 
s withal difcreet, and debonaii^ 
d the paflive do6lrine to fulfil, ^ « 

ti loth s and let him work his Wicked wilt t 
rd and bed was affiible and kind, 
ing as their marriage-vow did bind, 

the churches precept had injoin*d. 
ice (he was a fe^nnight old, they fay, 
lafte and huinble to her dying day, 
ick nor hen was known to difobey. 
lis her huiband^s heart (he did obtain ; 
annot beauty, joinM with virtue, gain4 

Shi 






144. DllYDEN'8 POtMS. 

From nfing fumes of indigefted food> 
And noxious humours that infefl the bloo4 1 
Jkad furcy my lord, if I can read aright, 
ThefefooHfli fancies, you have hadl«o-night, 
-Are certain fymptomt (in the canting ftile) 
Of boiling choler, and abounding bile ; 
This yeliowr gall that in yoar ftomach floats, 
Engenders all thefe viiionary thoughts. 
"When choler overflows, then dreamy are bred 
Of flames, and all the family of red ; 
Jled dragons, ^nd red beoAs , in fleep we Tiew, 
For humours are dtftinguifliM by their hue. 
From hence we dream of wars and warlike things, 
And wafps and hornets with their double wings. 

Cholct aduft congeals our blood with fear, 
Then black "bulls tofs us, and blacks devils tear. 
In fanguine airy dreams aloft we bound, 
With rheums opprefs'd we fmk in rivers drown\l. 

More I could fay, but thus conclude my theme^ 
The dominating humour makes the dream. 
Cato was in his time accounted wife. 
And he condemns them all for empty lies. 
Take my advice, and when we fly to ground. 
With laKatives prefenre your body found. 
And purge the peccant humours that abound. 
I fliould be loth to lay you on a bier ; 
And though there lives no Apothecary near, 
I dare for once prefcribe for your difeafe. 
And fave long bills, and a damn'd doftoi's fee;* 

Twa 



} 



The cock, and the FOX. 145 

Two foverfign herbs which I by praftice know, 
id both at hand (for in our yard they grow) 5 

I peril of my foul fhall rid: you wholly 
' yellow choler, and of melancholy : 

>u muft both purg^ and vomit ; but obey, 
id for the love of heaven make no delay, 
ice hot and dry in your complexion join, 
ware the fun when in a vernal fign ; 
r when he mounts exalted in the ram, 
then he finds your body in a flame, 
!plete with choler, I dare lay a groat, 
tertian ague is at leaft your lot. 
rhaps a fever (which the Gods forefend) 
ay bring your youth to fome untimely end : 
nd therefore, fir, as you defire to live, 
day or two before your laxative, 
ake juft three worms, nor under nor above, 
;caufe the Gods unequal numbers love, 
hefe digeftives prepare you for your purge ; 
F fumetery, centaury^ and fpurge, 
nd of ground-ivy add a leaf or two, 

II which within our yard or garden grow. 
It thefe, and be, my lordy of better cheer j 
our father's fon was never bom to fear. 
Madam, quoth he, grammercy for your care, 
ut Cato, whom you quoted, you may fpare » 
ris true, a wifeand worthy man he feems, 
.nd (as you fay) gave no belief to dreams : 

ut other men of more authority, 
^nd, by tb* imixiortal pojnrer^, as wife as he^ 
VoLf'lII, L Maint%in> 



U6 DRYDEN*S POfiMS. 

Maintain, with Ibunder fenfe, that dreams forebode | 
For Homei' plainly fays they come from God* 
Nor Cato faid it : but fome modem fool 
ImposM in Cato's nlme on boys at fchool. 

Believe me, madam, morning dreams foreihow 
Th' events of things, and future ^eal or woe : 
Some truths are not by reafon to be try'd. 
But we have Aire experience for our guide. 
An ancient author, equal with the beft. 
Relates this tale of dreams among the reft. 

Two friends or brothers, with devout intent^ 
On fome far pilgrimage together went. 
It happened fo that, when the fun was down^ 
They juft arriv'd by twilight at a town : 
That day had been the baiting of a bull, 
'Twas at a feaft, and every inn fo full, 
That no void room in chamber, or on ground ) 
And but one forry bed was to be found s 
And that fo little it would hold but one. 
Though till this hour they rtever lay alone. 

So were they forc'd to part ; one ftay'd behind^ 
His fellow fought what lodging he could find t 
At laft lie found a ftall where oxen ftood. 
And that he rather choofe than lie abroad, 
'Twas in a farther yard without a door 5 
But, for his eafe, well litterM ^s the fioot. 

His fello>>«r, who the narrow bed had kept> 
Was weaiy, and without ft rocker flept j 
Supine he fnor'd 5 but in the dead of nighty 
He dreamt his friend appea^M before hh ^Ut, 

Whoi 



I 



Trit CDCK AND THE POX. 147 

Who, with a ghaftly look and doleful cry, 
Said, Help me, brother, or this night I die : 
Arife, and help, before all help be vain> 
Or in an ox's ftall I ihall be flain. 

-RousM from his reft, he wakenM in a ftait> 
Shivering with»horror, and with aking heart ; 
At length to cure himfelf by reafon tries j 
'Tis but a dream, and what are dreams but lies ? 
•So thinking, chang'd his fide, and clos'd his -ejrcs. 
His dream returns ; his friend appears again : 
The murderers come, how help, or I am flain : 
'*Twas but a vifion ftill, and vifions are but vain. 
He dreamt the third : but now his friend appearM 
Pale, naked, piercM with wounds, with blood bef.near'd : 
Thrice warn'd, awake, faid he 5 relief is late. 
The deed is done j but thou revenge my fate : 
Tardy of aid, unieal thy heavy eyes. 
Awake, and with the dawning day arife : 
Take to the wcftern gate thy ready way. 
For by that paffage they my corpfe convey : 
My corpfe is in a tumbril laid, among 
The filth and ordure, and inclos'd with dung ) 
That cart arreft, and raife a common cry j 
For facred hunger of my gold, I die : 
Then Ihew'd his griefly wound : and laft he drew 
A piteous Hgh ; and took a long adieu. 

The frighted friend arofe by break of day. 
And found the ftall where late his fellow lay. 
Then of his impious hoft inquiring more. 
Was anfwer'd that his gtieft was gone before t 

L z , Muttering^ 



150 DRYDEN'S POEMS. 

His friend fmird fcomfal, and with proud contempt 
Rf je£l8 as idle what bis fellow dreamt* 
Stay, who will ftay t for me no fear» refhraiDy 
Who follow Mercury the god of gain 5 
Let each man do as to his fancy feem8> 
I wait not, I, till you have better dreams. 
Dreams are but interludes which fancy makes ; 
When monarch reafon fleeps, this mimic wak€»; 
Compounds a medley of disjointed things, 
A mob of coblers, and a court of kings : 
Light fumes are 'merry, grofler fumes are fad 8 , 
Both are the reafonable foul run mad ^ 
And many monftrous forms in fleep we fee. 
That neither were, nor are, nor e'er can be. 
Sometimes forgotten things long caft behind 
Ru(h forward in the brain, and come to mind* 
The nurfe's legends are for truths received. 
And the man dreams but what the boy belicvM. 

Sometimes we but rehearfe a former play. 
The night reftores our a&ions done by day j 
As hounds in fleep will open for their prey» 
In fhort, the farce of dreams is of a piece^ 
Chimeras all ; and more abfurd, or lefs : 
You, who believe in tales, abide alone 5 
Whate'er I get this voyage is my own* 

Thus while he fpoke, he heard the ihouting crc\^r 
That caird aboard, and took his laft adieu. 
The veflel went before a merry gale. 
And for quick j^affage put on every iaiJ : 

Sot 



Tab COCKI and- the FOX. iji 

But when leaft fear'd, and ev*n in open day. 
The mifchlef overtook h^er in the way : 
.Whether fhe fprung a kak, I cannot find. 
Or whether flie was overfet with wind, 
X)r that fome rock below her bottom rent 5 
But down at once with all her crew (he went : 
Her fellow Ihips from far her lofs defciy'd 5 
But only (he was funk, and all were fafe beilde. 

By this example you are taught again. 
That dreams and vifions are not always vain s 
But if, dear Partlet, you are ftill in doubt. 
Another tale fhall make the former out. 
Kenelm the fon of Kenulph, Mercians king, 
Whofe holy life the legends loudly fing, 
WarnM in a dream his murder did foretel 
From point to point as afte<;^it befel j 
AH circumdancds to his nurie he told 
(A wonder from a child of feven years old) : 
The dream with horror heard, the good old wife 
From treafon counfePd him to guard his life j 
But clofe to keep the fecret in his mind, 
For a boy's viiion fmall belief would find. 
The pious child, by promife bound, obeyed. 
Nor was the fatal murder long delayed : 
By Quenda flain, he fell before his time, 
Made a young martyr by his fifter's crime. 
The tale is told by venerable Bede, 
Which at your better leifure you m?y read# 

Macrobius too relates the vifion fent 
To the great Scipio, with the fam'd event : 

h 4 Obje^'osf 



I 



i5» DRYDEN'S POEMS. 

Objeftions makes, but after makes replies. 
And adds, that dreams are often prophefies. 

Of Daniel you may read In holy writ, 
Who, when the king his vifion did forget. 
Could word for word the wondrous dream repeat. 
Nor lefs of patriarch Jofeph underftand. 
Who by a dream enflavM th' Egyptian land. 
The years of plenty and of dearth foretold. 
When, for their bread, their liberty they fold. 
Nor muft th* exalted butler be forgot, 
Nor he whofe dream prefagM his hanging lot. 

And did not Croefus the fame death forefee, 
RaisM in his vifion on a lofty tree ? 
The wife of He6lor, in his utmoft pride. 
Dreamt of his death the night before he dyM 5 
Well was he warn'd from battle to refrain. 
But men to death decreed are warned in vain : 
He dar*d the dream, and by his fatal- foe was flain. 

Much more I know, v^hich I forbear to fpeak. 
For fee the ruddy day begins to break j 
Let this fuffice, that plainly I forefee 
My dream was bad, and bodes advei-fity s 
But neither pills nor laxatives I like. 
They only ferve to make the well-man fick 1 
Of thcfe his gain the (harp phyfician makes. 
And often gives a purge, but feldom takes ; 
They Dot coneflt, but poifon all the blood. 
And ne'er did any but the doftors good . 
Their tribe, trade, trinkets, I defy them all j 
With every work of 'pothecary's hall. 

Thefe 



I 



I 



The cock and thb FOX. 15J 
Theft melancholy matters I forbear : 
But let me tell thee, Partlet mine, and f\«rear. 
That when I view the beauties of thy face, 
I fear not death, nor dangers, nor difgrace j 
So may my foul have blifs, as when I fpy 
The fcarlet red about thy partridge eye. 
While thou art conftant to thy own tnic knight, 
While thou art mine, and I am thy delight. 
All forrows at thy prefence take their flight. 
For true it is, as '* in principio, 
** Mulier eft hominis confufio.*' 
Madam, the meaning of this Latin is. 
That woman is to man his fovereign blifs. 
For when by night I feel your tender fide, 
Though for the narrow perch I cannot ride. 
Yet I have fuch a folace in my mind. 
That all my boding cares are caft behind; 
And ev'n already I forget my dream : 
He faid, and downward flew from oiF the beam. 
For day- light now began apace to fpring. 
The thrufli to whiftlt , and the lark to fing. 
Then crowing clappM his wings, th* appointed call^ 
To chuck his wives together in the hall. 

By this the widow had unbarred the door. 
And Chanticleer went ftrutting out before. 
With royal courage, and with heart fo light. 
As (hew^d he fcomM the vifions of the night. 
Now roaming in the yard he fpumM the ground. 
And gave to Partlet the flrft grain he found. 

Then 



154 DR YD EN'S POEMS. 

Then often feather'd her with wanton play. 
And trod her twenty times ere prime of day : 
And took by turns and gave fo Inuch delight* 
Her (ifters pin'd with envy at the fight. 
He chiickM again, when other corns he found. 
And fcarcely deignM to fet a foot to ground. 
But fwaggerM like a lord about his hall. 
And his feven wives came nmning at his call. 

*Twa8 now the month in which the world began 
(If March beheld the firft created man) : 
And (ince the vernal equinox, the fun. 
In Aries twelve degrees, or more, had run ; 
When cafting up his eyes againft the light. 
Both month, and day, and hour, he meafurM right i 
And told more tiuly, than th* Ephemeris : 
For art may err, but nature cannot mifs. 

Thus numbering times and feafons in his breaft. 
His fecond crowing the third hour confefs*d. 
Then turning, faid to Partlet, See, my dear. 
How lavifh nature has adorn'd the year; 
How the pale primrofe and blue violet fpring. 
And birds eflay their throats difusM to fing s 
All thefe are ours ; and I with pleafure fee 
Man ftrutting on two legs, and aping me : 
An unfledg'd creature, of a lumpilh frame^ 
EndowM with fewer particles of flame : 
Our dame fits couring o'er a kitchen fire, 
I draw frefh air, and nature's works admire i 
And ev'n this day in more delight abound. 
Than, fince I was an egg, I ever found. 

1 Th 



\ 



TirlB'CO CK AND -THE FOX. 155 
dmc (hadl come when Chanticleer fhall wi(h 
rds uttfaid, and hate his bo^ed blifs : 
rfted bird fhaJl by experience know, 
ide not hiiii his mafter-piece below } 
irn the latter end of joy is woe. 
(Tel of his blifs to dregs is run> 
eaven will have him tafte his other tun. 
'ife, draw near, and hearken to my tale, 
proves that oft the proud by flattery fall s 
rend is as true I undertake 
ftran is, and Launcelot of the lake : 
all our ladies in fuch reverence hold, 
1 book of martyrs it were told. 
X full -fraught with feeming fan^ity, 
;arM an oath, but, like the devil, would lie 1 
>okM like Lent, and had the holy leer, 
jrft not fm before he faid his prayer j 
ious cheat, that never fuckM the blood, 
ew^d the fleili of Iambs, but when he cou^d y 
fsM three fummers in the neighbouring wood ; 
ufing long, whom next to circumvent, 
anticleer his wicked fancy bent ; 
i his high imagination caft, 
tagem to gratify his tafle. 
plot contrived, before the break of day, 
leynard through the hedge had made his way f 
lie was next, but proudly with a bound 
pt the fence of the forbidden ground : 
raring to be feen, within a bed 
eworts he conceaPd his wily head ^ 

Thei 



I 



15^ DRYDEN'S POEMS. 

A woman's counfel brought ns firft to woe. 

Ami made her man his paradife forego. 

Where at heart's eafe he liv'd 5 and might hare been 

As free from forrow as he was from fin. 

For what the devil had their fex to do. 

That, born to folly, they prefum'd to know, 

And could not fee the ferpent in the grafs ? 

But I myfelf prefume, and let it pafs. 

Silence in times of fufFering is the beft, 
^Tis dangerous to difturb an hornet's neft* 
In other authors you may find enough. 
But all they fay of dames is idle fluff. 
Legends of lying wits together bound. 
The wife of Bath would throw them to the grouhd $ 
Thefe are the words of Chanticleer, not mine, 
I honour dames, and think their fex divine. 

Now to continue what my .tale begun ; 
Lay madam Partlet bafking in the fun, 
Breaft-high in fand : her fifters, in a row, 
Enjoy'd the beams above, the warmth below. 
The cock, that of his fiefh was ever free, 
Sung merrier than the mermaid in the fea ; 
And fo befel, that as he cafl his eye. 
Among the coleworts on a butterfly. 
He faw falfe Reynard where he lay full low t 
I need not fwear he had no lifl to crow i 
But cry'd, cock, cock, and gave a fudden fbutf 
As fore difmay'd aud frighted at his heart $ 
For birds and beads, infomi'd by nature, know. 
Kinds •ppofite to theirs, and fly theijr foe. , 



Thb cock and the fox. 15^ 

o Chanticleer, who never* faw a fox, 
'et fhunnM him as a failor fliuns the rocks. 
But the falfe loon, who couf3 not work his will 
y open force, employed his flattering (kill j 
hope, my lord, faid he, I not offend ; 
Ure you afraid of me, that am your friend ? 
were a beaft indeed to do you wrong, 
, who have lovM and honoured you fo long : 
tay, gentle Sir, nor take a falfe alarm, 
or on my foul I never meant you harm, 
come no fpy, nor as a traitor prefs, 
i'o Icapi the fecrets of your foft reccfs s 
'ar be from Reynard fo profane a thoug|;it, 
►ut by the fwcetnefs of your voice was brought j 
or, as I bid my beads, by chance I heard 
?he fong as of an angel in the yard $ 
i fong that would have charm'd th' infernal Gods, 
in4 banifliM horror from the dark abodes j 
Ud Orpheus fung it in the nether fphere, 
o much the hymn had pleasM the tyrant^s ear, 
!*he:wife had been detainM, to keep the hu(band then:* 
My lord, your iire familiarly I knew, 
L peer deierving fuch a fon as you : 
le» with year lady-mother, (whom Heaven reft) 
las often grac'd my houfe, and been my gueft : 
To view his living features, does me good ; 
or I am your poor neighbour in the wood | 
Lnd in my cottage (hould be proud to fee 
rke worthy heir «f my friend's family. 

But 



\ 



I 



160 DRYDEN'S POEMS. 

But fince I fpeak of fmging, let me fay. 
As with an upright heart I fafely may, 
That, favc yourfelf, there breathes not on the ground 
One like your father for a filver-found. 
So fweetly would he wake the winter-day, 
That matrons to the church mifteok their way. 
And thought they heard the merry organ play. 
And he, to raife his voice with artful care, 
(What will not beaux artempt to pleafe the fair?) 
On tiptoe ftood to fmg with greater ftrength. 
And ftretch'd his comely neck at all the length : 
And while he ftrain'd his voice to pierce the fkies. 
As faints in raptures ufe, would (hut his eyes, 
That the found ftriving through the narrow throat. 
His winking might avail to mend the note. 
By this, in fong, he never had his peer. 
From fweet Cecilia down to Chanticleer 5 
Not Maro's mufe, who fung the mighty man, 
Nor Pindar's heavenly lyre, nor Horace when a fwBtt* ■ 
Your anceftors proceed from race divine : 
From Brennus and Belinus is your line ; 
Who gave to fovereign Rome fuch loud alarms. 
That ev'n the priefts were not excused from arms. 

Befides, a famous monk of modern times 
Has left of cocks recorded in his rhymes, 
That of a parifh-prieft the fon and heir, 
(When fons of priefts were from the proverb clear) ■ • 
Affronted once a. cock of noble kind. 
And either lamM his le^, or ftruck him blind ^ 

Foi 



TfilE C O C IC A N D T H E Vox. l6l 

^'or which the clerk his father was difgrac'd. 

And in liis benefice another placed. 

^ow fing, my lord. If not for love of me, 

Vet for the fake of fweet faint charity ; 

Make hills and dales, and earth and heaven rejoice^ 

And emulate your father's angel voice. 

The cock was pleas'd to hear him fpeak fo fair. 
And proud befide, as folar people are ; 
Nor could the treafon from the tnith dcfcry, 
So was he ravifli'd with this flattery : 
'So much the more, as, from a little eTf, , 

He had a high opinion of himfelf j 
Though fickly, flcnder, and not large of limb> 
Concluding all the world was made for him. 

Ye princes rais'd by poets to the Gods, 
And Alexandei'd up in lying odes. 
Believe not every flattering knave's report. 
There's many a Reynard lurking in the court 5 
And he ftiall be reccivM with more regard 
And liften'd to, than modeft truth is heard. 

This Chanticleer, of whom the ftory fmgs. 
Stood high upon his toes, and clappM his wings ; 
Then ftret'chM his neck, and wink'd with both his eyesj 
Ambitious, as he fought tir Olympic prize. 
But, while he painM himfelf to raife his note, 
Falfe Reynard rufh'd, and caught him by the throat. 
^hen on his back he laid the precious load, 
And fought his wonted fhelter of the wood ; 
Swiftly he made his way, the_mifchief done, 
Of all unheeded, and purfued by none. 

Vol* III. M Alas* 



Ida DR YD EN'S POE IVTSv 

Alas, what ftay is there in human ftate. 
Or who can fhun inevitable fate ? 
The doom was written, the decree was pafi*. 
Ere the foundations of the world were caft I 
In Aries though the fun exalted flood. 
His patron-planet to procure his good j 
Yet Saturn was his mortal foe, and he. 
In Libra raised, oppos'd the fame degree : 
The rays both good and bad, of equal power,, 
Each thwarting other made a mingled hour. 

On Friday m6rn he dreamt this direful drear 
Crofs to the worthy native, in his fcheme !" 
Ah blifsful Venus, GodJefs of delight. 
How could'ft thou fuffer thy devoted knight. 
On thy own day to fall by foe opprefs'd. 
The wight of all the world who fervM thee beft 
Who, true to love, was all for recreation. 
And minded not the work of propagation. 
Gaufride, who could'ft Co well in rhyme corpph 
The death of Richard with an arrow fiain. 
Why had not I thy Mufe, or thou my heart. 
To fmg this heavy dirge with equal art ! 
Tiiat I like thee an Friday might complain f 
For on that day was Cocur de Lion flain. 

Not louder cries, when Ilium was in flaraes> 
Were fent to heaven by woful Trojan dames, 
Wl^en Pyrrhu* tofs'd on high his burnilVd blac 
And offerM Priam to his father's Ihade, 
Than for the cock the widow'd poultry madc» 



> 



TheCOCKandtheFOjC. 1^3 

Fair Partlet firft, when he was borne from fight, 
With fovereign fhrieks bewaiTd her captive knight ; 
Far louder than the Carthaginian wife. 
When Afdrubal her huiband loft his life. 
When ftie beheld the fmouldering flames afcend, 
And all the Punic glories at an end : 
Willing into the fires /he plungM her head. 
With greater eafe than others feek tlieir bed. 
Not more agliall the matrons of renown. 
When tyrant Nero burn'd th' imperial towh, 
ShriekM for the downfai in a doleful cry. 
For which their guiltlefs lords were doom'd to die. 

Now to my ftory I return again : 
The trembling widow, and her daughters twain,^ 
This woful cackling cry with horror heard, 
Of thofe diftra^led damfcls in the yard j 
And ftarting up beheld the heavy fight. 
How Reynard to the foreft took his flight. 
And crofs his back, as in triumphant fcorn. 
The hope and pillar of tlie houfe was borne. 

The fox, the wicked fox, was all the cry f ] 
Out from his houfe ran every neighbour nigh : 
The vicar firft, and after him the crew 
With forks and ftaves, the felon to purfuc. 
Ran Coll our dog, and Talbot with the band,. 
And Malkin, with her diflaif in her hand j 
Ran cow and calf, an<l family of hogs. 
In panic horror of purfiiing dogs j 
With many a deadly gruiu and doleful fqucak. 
Poor fwine^ as if their pretty hearts would break. 

M z The 



i64 DR YD EN'S POEMS, 

The ftiouts of men, the women in di'fmay. 
With (hrieks augment the terror of the day. 
The ducks that heard the proclamation cryM, 
And fear'd a perfecution might betide, . 
Full twenty mile from town their voyage take, 
Obfcure jn rulhes of the liquid kke. 
The geeCe fly o'er the barn ; the bees in arms 
Drive headlong from their waxen cells in fwarms. 
Jack Straw at London -ftone, with all his rout. 
Struck not the city with fo loud a (liout ; 
Not when with Englifti hate they did purfue 
A Frenchman, or an unbelieving Jew : 
Not when the welkin rung with one and all ; 
And echoes bounded back from Fox's hall : 
Earth feem'd to fink beneath, and heaven above to fa 
With might and main they chac'd the murderous i 
With brazen trumpets, and inflated box. 
To kindle Mars with military founds, 
Nor wanted horns t' infpire fagacious hounds. 
But fee how Fortune can confound the wife. 
And, when they leaft expe£l it, turn the dice. 
The captive-cock, who fcarce could draw his breat 
And lay within the very jaws of death ; 
Yet in this agony his fancy wrought, 
And fear fupply'd him with this happy thought : 
Your's is the prize, viftorious prince, faid he, 
Th^ vicar my defeat, and all the village fee. 
Enjoy your friendly fortune while you may. 
And bid the churls that envy you the prey 



] 



TheCOCKandtheFOX. 165 

Call back their mungril curs, and ceafe their cry, 
See, fools, the (helter of the wood is'nigh. 
And Chanticleer in your defpite fhall die. 
He fhall be pliickM and eaten to the bone, 

'Tis well advis'd, in faith it fhall be done ; 
This Reynard faid : but, as the word he fpoke. 
The prifoner with a fpring from prifon broke : 
Then ftretchM his feathered fans with all his might, 
And to the neighbouring maple wingM his flight j 

Whom when the traitor fafe on tree beheld. 
He curs'd the Gods, with fhame and forrow fiU'd j 
Shame for his folly, forrow out of time. 
For plotting an unprofitable crime ; 
Yet, maftering both, th"* artificer of lyes 
Renews th^affault, and his lad battery tries. 

Though I, faid he, did ne'er in thought offend,. 
How juflly may my lord fufpeft his friend ! 
Th' appearance is againft me, I confefs. 
Who feemingly have put you in diflrefsr: 
You, if your goodnefs does not plead my caufe^ 
May think I broke all hofpitable laws, 
To bear you from your palace-yard by mighty 
And put your noble perfon in a fright :• 
This, fince you take it ill, I muft repent, . 

Though, hearen can witnefs, with no bad inter#r 
I praftls'd it, to make you tnftc your cheer 
With double pkafure, firft prepared by fcar^ 
So loyal fubjefts often feize their prince^ 
ForcM (for his good) to feeming violence,. 
Y«t mean hi$ faci-ed perfon not the leail offence^ 

M i Defccndi 



I 



i66 DRYDEN'S POEMSk 

pelcend ; fo help me Jove as you fliall find 
That Reynard corties of no diffembling kind. 

Nay, quoth the cock ; hut I befhrew us both. 
If I believe a faint upon his oath : 
An honeft man may take a knave's advice. 
But idiots only may be cozen'd twice : 
Once warn'd is well bewarM j not flattering lies 
Shall footh me more to fing with winking eyes. 
And open mouth, for fear of catching flies. 
Who blindfold walks upon a river's brim. 
When he (hould fee, has he defervM to fwim ? 
Better, fjr cock, let all contention ceafe. 
Come down, faid Reynard, let us treat of peace. 
A peace with all my foul, faid Chanticleer ; 
But, with your favour, I will treat it here : 
And, left the truce with treafon fhould be mixt, 
'Tis my concern to have the tree betwixt. 

The moral. 

In this plain fable you th' efFe6l may fee 
Of negligence, and fond credulity : 
And learn befides of flatterers to beware, 
Then moft pernicious when they fpeak too fair* 
The cock and fox, the fool and knave imply j 
The truth is moral, though the tale a lye. 
Who fpoke in parables, I dare not fay j 
But fure he knew it was a pleafing way, 
Sound fcnfe, by plain example, to convey. 
And in a heathen author we may find. 
That pleafure with inftru£lion Hiould be joined $ 
So ake the corU; and leave the chaff behind. 

The 



\ 



[ i67 i 
Tr-e flower and the LEAF: 

O R, 

The lady in the ARBOUR. 
A V I S I O N. 

"VT O W turning from the wlntery Tigns, the fun 
'*-^ His courfe exalted through the Ram had run, 
And, whirling up the ikies, his chariot drove 
Through Taurus and the lightfome realms of love ; 
Where Venus from her orb dcfcends in fhowers, 
To glad the ground, and paint the fields with flowers 
When firft the tender blades of grafs appear. 
And buds, that yet the blaft of Eurus fear. 
Stand at the door of life, and doubt to clothe the year 
Till gentle heat, and foft repeated rains. 
Make the green blood to dance within their veins : 
Then, at their call emboldened, out they come. 
And fwell the germs,, and burft the narrow room ; 
Broader and broader yet, their blooms difplay. 
Salute the welcome fuft, and entertain the day. 
Then from their breathing fouls the fweets repair. 
To fcent the fkies, and purge th' unwholfome air : 
Joy fpreads the heart, and, with a general fong. 
Spring ifTues out, and leads the jolly months along. . 

In that fweet feafon, as in bed I lay. 
And fought in flcep to pafs the night away, 
I turn'd my weary'd fide, but ftill in vain. 
Though full of youthful health, and void of pain t 

M 4. Car 



} 



J 



16^8 DR YD EN'S POEMSEL 

Gares I had none, to keep me from ray reft,. 
For love had never enter'd in my breaft j 
I wanted nothing fortune could fupply, 
Nor did flie flumber till that hour deny. 
I wonderM then, but after found it true. 
Much joy had dry'd away the balmy dew : 
Seas would be pools, without the brufliing air. 
To curl the waves : and fure fome little care 
Should weary nature fo, to make her want repair. 
When Chanticleer the fecond watch had fung, 
Scorning the fcorner fleep, from bed I fprung ; 
And, dreffing, by the moon, in loofe array, 
Pafs'd out in open air, preventing day, 
And fought a goodly grove, as fancy led my way. 
Straight as a line in beauteous order ftood 
Of oaks unfhorn a venerable wood ; 
Freili \vas,th6 grafs beneath, and every tree 
At di (Vance planted in a due degree. 
Their branching arms in air with equal fpace 
Stretcb^d to their neighbours with a long embrace :. 
And the new leaves- on every bough were feen. 
Some ruddy coloured, fome of lighter green. 
The painted birds> companrons of the fpringj 
Hopping from fpray to fpray, were heard to fingpw- 
Both eyes and ears received a like delight, 
Enchanting^mufic, and a charming fight. 
On Philomel I fix'd my whole defire j 
And li(?en'd for the queen of all the quire ; 
Fa;n would I hear her hea^/enTy voice to fing j. 
And wanted yet an omen- to the fpring. 

Attendii^ 



The flower and the LEAF. 16^ 

Attending long in vain, I took the way, 
"Whieh through a path but fcarcely printed lay i 
In narrow mazes oft it feem'd to meet. 
And lookM as lightly prefs'd by fairy feet* 
Wandering I walk'd alone, for ftill methought 
To fome ftrange end fo ftrange a path was wrought r 
At la(^ it led me where an arbour ftood. 
The facred receptacle of the wood : 
This place unmarkM, though oft I walk'd the green> 
In all my progrefs I had never feen : 
And, feiz'd at once with wonder and delight, 
GazM all around me, new to the tranfporting fight- 
*Twas bench'd with turf, and goodly to be feen. 
The thick young grafs arofe in freftier green : 
The mound was newly made, no fight could pafs 
Betwixt the nice partitions of the grafs ; 
The well-united fods fo clofely lay j 
And all around the fhades defended it from day t 
For fycamoi*es with eglantine were fpread, 
A hedge about the fides, a covering over head. 
And fo the fragrant brier was wove between, 
The fycamore and flowers were mixM with green* 
That nature feera'd to \^ry the delight f 
And fqtisfy'd at once the fmell and -fight. 
The maimer workman of the bower was known 
Through fairyrlands, and built for Oberonj 
Who twining leaves with fuch proportion drew^ 
They rofe by meafure, and by rale they grew j. 
No ooortal tongue can half the beauty tell : 
For none but haxKU divine coulxl work £d well- 

BotJk 



ijo DR YD EN'S POEMS. 

Both roof and fides were like a parlour made> 

A foft recefs, and a cool fummer (hade j 

The hedge was fet Co thick, no foreign eye 

The perfons phc'd within it could efpy : 

But all that pafs'd without with eafe was feen, 

As if nor fence nor tree was plac'd between. 

"•Twas borderM with a field ; and fome was plain 

With grafs, and fome was fowM with rifing grain. 

That (now the dew with fpangles deck'd the giound) 

A fweeter fpot of earth was never found. 

I lookM and look'd> and ftill with new delight ; 

Such joy my foul, fuch pleafures fiU'd my fight : 

And the frcfli eglantine exhal'd a breath, 

Whofe odours were of power to raife from death. 

Not" 'Allien difcontent, nor anxious care, 

^v*n though brought thither, could inhabit thei*e t 

But thence they fled as from tlieir mortal foe j 

For this fweet place could only pleafure know. 

Thus as I musM, T caft afide my eye, / 
And faw a medlar-tree was planted nigh. 
The fj^reading branches made a goodly fhow. 
And full of opening blooius was every bough : 
A goldfinch there I faw with gawdy pride 
Of painted plumes, that hopp\l from fide to fide. 
Still pecking as fiie pafs'd ; and ftill flie drew 
The fweets from every flower, and fuck'd the dew t 
Sufficed at length, ihe warbled in her throat, 
And tun'd her voice to many a merry note. 
But indiftin^V, and neither fweet nor clear. 
Yet fuch as footh'd my foul, and jpleas'd my ear. 

Her 



The flower and the LEAF. 171 

Her ihort performance was no fooner try'd, 
When (he I fought, the nig^itingale, reply'd : 
So fweet, fo ihrill, Co varioully fhe fung, 
That the grove echoed, and the valleys rung : 
And I fo ravifliM with her heavenly note, 
I ftood intranc'd, and had no room for thought, 
But, all p'er-powerM with ecftafy of blifs. 
Was in a pleafing dream of paradifc ; 
At length I wak'd, and, looking round the bower> 
SearchM every tree, and pry'd on every flower, 
If any-wherc by chance I might efpy, 
The rural poet of the melody : 
For ftill methought (he fung not far away ; 
At laft I found her on a laurel fpray. 
Clofe by my fide (he fat, and fair in fight, 
Full in a line againft her oppofite 5 
Where ftood with eglantine the laurel twin'd ; 
And both their native fweets were well conjoined. 

On the green bank I fat, and liften'd long 
(Sitting was more convenient for the fong) : 
Nor till her lay was ended could I move. 
But wifli'd to dwell for ever in the grove. 
Only methought the time too fwiftly pafs'd. 
And every pote I fearM would be the laft. 
My fight, and fmell, and hearing, were employM^ 
And all three fenfes in full guft enjoy'd. 
And what aJone did all the reft furpafs. 
The fweet pofleffion of the fairy place ; 
Single, and canfi:Ious to my felf alone 
Of pleafures to th' excluded world unknown t 

Pleafurca 



171 DR YD EN'S P0EM5. ' 

Pleauires which no where elfe were to be founds 
And all Elyfium in a fpot of ground. 

Thus while I fat intent to fee and hear. 
And drew perfumes of more than vital air. 
All fuddenly I heard th'approaching found 
Of vocal mufic, on th' inchanted ground : 
An hoft of faints it feem'd, fo full the quire j 
As if the blefsM al>ove did all confpire 
To join their voices, and neglect the lyre. 
At length there ilfued from the grove behind 
A fair affembly of the female kind : 
A train lefs fair, as ancient fathers tell, 
SeducM the fons of heaven to rebel. 
I pafs their form, and every charming grace^ 
Lefs than an angel would their worth debafe t 
But their attire, like liveries of a kind 
All rich and rare, is frcfli within my mind. 
In velvet white as fnow the troop was gown'd. 
The fcams with fparkling emeralds fet around ; 
Their hoods and (Iceves the fame ; and purfled o'er 
With diamonds, pearls, and all the fhining ftore 
Of eaftem pomp : their long defcending train. 
With rubies edg'd, and fapphires, fwept the plain t 
High on their heads, with jewels richly fet. 
Each, lady wore a radiant coronet. 
Beneath the circles, all the quire was grac'd 
With chaplets green on their fair foreheads placed » 
Of laurel fome, of woodbine many more ; 
And wreaths of Agnus callus others, bore :. 

There 



} 



The flower and the LEAF. 175 
*rhefe laft, who with thofe virgin crowns were drefs'd, 
Appoard in higher honour than the reft. 
They dancM around : but in the midft was fcen 
A lady of a more majeftic mien 5 
By (lature and by beauty mark'd their fovereign queen 

She in the midft began with fober grace ; 
Her fcrvant's eyes were fix'd upon her face. 
And, as flic movM or turn'd, her motions view'd. 
Her meafures kept, and ftep by ftep purfued. 
Methought ftie trod the ground with greater grace, 
"With more of godhead fliining in her face ; 
And a« in beauty (he furpafs'd the quire. 
So, nobler than the reft, was her attire. 
A crown of ruddy gold inclosM her brow, 
Plain without pomp, and rich without a fliow : 
A branch of Agnus caftus in her hand 
She bore aloft (her fceptre of command) ; 
Admir'd, ador'd by all the circling crowd. 
For wherefoe'cr flie turn'd her face, they bowM : 
And as flie danc'd, a roundelay flie fung. 
In honour of the laurel, ever young : 
She rais'd her voice on high, and fung fo clear. 
The fawns came fcuddlng from the groves to hear 
And all the bending foreft lent an ear. 
At every clofe (he made, th"* attending throng 
Reply'd, and bore the burden of the fong ; 
So juft, fo fmall, yet in fo fweet a note. 
It feem'd the muHc me'ted in the throat. 

Thus dancing on, and (inging as they dancM, 
They to the middle of the mead advanc'd. 

Till 
I 



I 



,74 DRYDEN'S POEMS. 

Till round my arbour a new ring they made. 
And footed it about the fecret fhade. 
O'erjoy'd to fee the jolly troop fo near, 
But fomewhat awM, I fhook with holy fear ; 
Yet not fo much, but that I noted well 
Who did the moft in fong or dance excel. 

Not long I had obfervM, when from afar 
I heard a fudden fymphony of war ; 
The neighing courfers, and the foldiers cry, 
And founding tnimps that feem'd to tear the (ky : 
I faw foon after this, behind the grove 
From whence the ladies did in order move, 
Come ilfuing out in arms a warrior train. 
That like a deluge pourM upon the plain : 
On barbed fteeds they rode in proud array. 
Thick as the college of the bees in May, 
When fwarming o'er the dufky fieUIs they fly. 
New to the flowers, and intercept the fky. 
So fierce they drove, their courfers were fo fleet,, 
That the turf trembled underneath their feet. 

To tell their coftly furniture were long. 
The fummer's day would end before the fong : 
Tb purchafe but the tenth of all their ftore. 
Would make the mighty Perfiaa monarch poor» 
Ytt what I can, I will ; before the reft 
The trumpets iflued in white mantles drefs'd : 
A numerous troop, and all their heads around 
With chaplets green of cerrial-oak were crown'd. 
And at each tiuinpet was a banner bound ^ 

Which. 



The flower and the LEAF. 175 

Which waving in the wind difplay'd at large 
Their mafter's coat of arms, and knightly charge* 
Broad were the banners, and of fnowy hue, 
A purer web the filk-worm never drew. 
The chief about their necks the fcutcheons wore. 
With orient pearls and jewels powder'd o'er : 
Broad were tlieir collars too, and every one 
Was fet about with many a coftly ftone. 
Next thefe of kings at arms a goodly train 
In proud array came prancing o'er the plain : 
Their cloaks were cloth of (liver mixM with gold. 
And garlands green around their temples roll'd : 
Rich crowns were on their royal fcutcheons plac'd. 
With fapphires, diamonds, and with rubies grac'd s 
And as the trumpets their appearance made, 
So thefe in habits were alike arrayM j 
But with a pace more fober, and more flow ; 
And twenty, rank in rank, they rode a row. 
The purfuivants came next, in number more j 
And like the heralds each his fcutcheon bore i 
Clad in white velvet all their troop they led> 
With each an oaken chaplet on his head. 

Nine royal knights in equal rank fucceed. 
Each warrior mounted on a fiery fteed : 
In golden armour glorious to behold ; 
The rivets of their arms were nail'd with gold. 
Their furcoats of white erinin fur were made. 
With cloth of gold between, that caft a glittering fliade| 
The trappings of their fteeds were of the fame j 
The golden fringe ev'n fet the ground on flame. 

And 



I 



^75 DRYDEN*§ POEMS> 

And drew a precious trail : a crown divine 
Of hiurel did about their temples twine. 

Three henchmen were for every knight aflignM^ 
JVll in rich livery clad, and of a kind i 
White velvet, but unfliorn, for cloaks they wore. 
And each within his hand a truncheon bore : 
The foremoft held a helm of rare device ; 
A prince's ranfom would not pay the price. 
The fecond bore the buckler of his knight, 
The third of cornel-wood a fpear upright, 
Headed with piercing fteel, and polilhM bright. 
X,ike to their lords their equipage was leen. 
And all their foreheads crown'd with garlands green. 

And after thefe came, ann'd with fpear and fliicld. 
An hoft fo great, as covered all the field. 
And all their foreheads, like the knights before. 
With laurels ever-green were (haded o'er. 
Or oak, or other leaves of lafting kind. 
Tenacious of the ftem, and firm againft the wind. 
Some in their hands, befide the lance and ftiield. 
The boughs of woodbine or of hawthorn held, 
Or branches for their myftic emblems took. 
Of palm, of laurel, or of cerrial oak. 
Thus marching to the trumpet's lofty found. 
Drawn in two lines adverfe they wheel'd around. 
And in the middle meadow took their ground. 
Among themfdlves the turney they divide, 
In equal fquadrons rang'd on either fide. 
Then turn'd their horfes heads, and man to man^ 
And fteed to fteed oppos'd, the jufts began. 

They 



1 



The flower and the LEAF. 177 

They lightly fet their lances in the reft, 
And, at the fign, againft each other prefs'd : 
They met. I fitting at my eafe beheld 
The mix'd events, and fortunes of the field. 
Some broke their fpears, fome tumbled horfe and man. 
And round tlie field the lighten'd courfers ran. 
An hour and more, like tides, in equal fway 
They rufh'd, and won by turns, and loft the day : 
At length the nine (who ftill together held) 
Their fainting foes to ftiamefu! fight compel'd. 
And with refiftlefs force o'er-ran the field. 
Thus, to their fame, when finifti'd was the fight. 
The vif^ors from their lofty fteeds alight : 
Like them difmounted all the warlike train. 
And two by two proceeded o'er the plain : 
Till to the fair afTembly they advanced. 
Who near the fecret arbour fung and danc'd. 
The ladies left their meafures at the fight. 
To meet the chiefs returning from the fight. 
And each with open arms embraced her chofen knight. 
Amid the plain a fpreading laurel ftood, 
The grace and ornament of all the wood : 
That pleafing ftiade they fought, a foft retreat 
From fudden April fliowers, a ftielter from the heat i 
Her leafy arms with fuch extent were fpread. 
So near the clouds was her afpiring head. 
That hofts of birds, that wing the liquid air, 
PerchM in the boughs, had nightly lodging there : 
And flocks of ftieep beneath the fttade from far 
Might hear the rattling hail, and wintery war j 

VoL.HL N From 



I 



178 DRYDtU'S POtUi. 

From Heaven's inclemency here found retreat, 
EnjoyM the cool, and (hunn'd the fcorching heat t 
A hundred knights might there at eafe abide j 
And every knight a lady by his fide : 
The trtink itfelf fuch odours did bequeath, 
That aMoluccan breeze to thefe was common breath 
The lords and ladies here, approaching, paid 
Their homage, with a low obeifance made 5 
Apd feem*d to venerate the facred fliade. 
Thefe rites performed, their pleafures they purfue, 
With fongof love, and mix with pleafures newj 
Around the holy tree their dance they frame, 
And every champion^ leads his chofen dame. 

I call my fight upon the farther field. 
And a frefh obje«5l of delight beheld : 
For from the region of the Weft I heard 
New muiic fotind, and a new troop appeared } 
Of knights, and ladies mix^d, a jolly band, 
But all on foot they marchM, and hand in hand. 

The ladies drefs'd in rich fymars were feen 
Of Florence fattin, flowerM with white and green. 
And for a fliade betwixt the bloomy gridelin. 
The borders of their petticoats below 
Were guarded thick with rubies on a row j 
And every damfel wore upon her head 
Of flowers a garland blended white and red. 
AttirM in mantles all the knights were feen. 
That gratifyM the view with chearful green : 
Their chaplets of their ladies colours were. 
Composed of white and red> to fliade their fliining hair. 

Before 



Th£ f^LbWERAND THE LE-^i*. 175 

Before the merry troop the minftrels play'd j 
All in their mafter's liveries were array'd. 
Arid clad in green, and on their temples wore 
The chaplets white and red their ladies bore. 
Their inftruments were various in tl.eir kind. 
Some for the how, and fome for breathing wind : 
The fjwtry, pipe, and hautboy's noify band, 
And the foft lute trembling beneath the touching hand* 
A tuft of daifies on a flowery lay 
They faw, and thitlierward they bent their way ; 
To this both knights and dames their homage made. 
And due obeifance to the daify paid. 
And then the band of flutes began to play, 
To which a lady fung a virelay r 
And ftill at every clofe (he would repeat 
The burden of the fong, V The daify is fo fweet.'* 
The daify is fo fweet, when flie begun, 
The troop of knights and dames continued on. 
The concert and the voice fo charmed my ear. 
And foothM my foul, that it was heaven to hear. 
But foon their pleafure pafsM : at noon of day. 
The fun with fultry beams began to play j 
Not Sirius flioots a fiercer flame from high. 
When with his poifonous breath he blafts the flcy ; 
Then droopM the fading flowers (their beauty fled) 
And closM their fickly eyes, and hung the head ; 
And, rivel'd up with heat, lay dying in their bed. 
The ladies gafpM, and fcarcely could refpire j 
The breath they drew, no longer air, but fire j 

N » ' The 



J 



iXo DRYDEN'^S POEMS. 

The fainty knights were fcorch'd 5 and knew not where 
To run for flielter, for no ihade was near j 
And after this the gathering clouds amain 
Pour\i down a ftorm of rattling hail and rahi : 
And lightning flafliM betwixt : the field, and flowers. 
Burnt up before, were buried in the fhowers. 
The ladies and the knights, no fhelter nigh. 
Bare to the weather and the wintery Iky, 
Were dropping wet, difconfolate, and wan. 
And through their thin array receiv-d the rain 5 
While thofe in white prote6Ved by the tree 
Saw pais in vain th' aflkult, and flood from danger free.. 
But as compaflion movM their gentle minds. 
When ceas'd the ftorm, and filent were the winds^ 
DifpleasM at what, not iiiffering, they had feen. 
They went to cheer the fa£lion of the green : 
The queen in white array, before her band. 
Saluting, took her riral by the hand ; 
So did the knights and dames, with courtly grace. 
And with behaviour fweet their foes embrace, 
' Then thus the queen with laurel on her brow. 
Fair fiftcr, I have fufferM in- your woe 5 
Nor fhall b*? wanting augJit within my power 
For yoar relief in my refreshing bower. 
That other anfwei'd with a lowly look, 
And focwi the gracious invitation took : 
For ill at eale both fhe and all* her train 
The fccrching fun had borne, and beating rain^ 
Like courtefy was usM by all m white, 
T£3(A dame a dame recsiv'd,. and every kinght a knight. 

The 



TttlE IJ^LOWER ATM) THE LEAF. iSt 

The laurel champions with their fwords invade 

The neighbouring forefts, where the jufts were made, 

And ferewood from the rotten hedges took. 

And feeds of latent fire from fiints provoke : 

A chearful blaze arofe, and by the fire 

They warm'd their frozen feet, and dry'd their wet 

attire. 
Refrefli'd with heat, the ladies fought around 
For virtuous hei'bs, which gathered from the ground 
They fqueez'd the juice, and cooling ointment made. 
Which on their fun -burnt cheeks and their chapt fkins 

they laid : 
Then fought green falads, which they bade them eat, 
A fovereign remedy for inward heat. 

The lady of the leaf ordainM a feaft. 
And made the lady of the flower her gueft : 
When lo, a bower afcended on the plain, 
With fudden feats ordain'd, and large for either train. 
This bower was near my pleafant arbour plac'd, 
That I could hear and fee whatever pafsM : 
The ladies fat with each a knight between, 
Diftinguiflfd by their colours, white and green j 
The vanquirti'd party with the vigors joinM, 
Nor wanted fwect difcourfe, the banquet of the mind. 
Mean time the minftrels playM on either fide, 
Vain of their art, and for the maftery vy'd : 
The fwect contention lafted for an hour. 
And reached thy fecret arbour from the bower. 

The fun was fet j and Vcfper, to fupply 
His abfent beams, had lighted up the iky : 

N 3 WkcB 



i8s DRYDEN'S POEMS^. 

When Philomel officious all the day 

To fingthe fer\^ice of th' enfuing May, 

Fled from her laurel fliade, and wing'd her flight 

Dire6lly fo the queen array'd in white : 

And hopping fat familiar on her hand, 

A new mufician, and increasM the band. 

The goldfinch, who, to /hun the fcalding heat. 
Had changed the medlar for a fafer feat. 
And hi(^in bufhes TcapM the bitter /hower, 
Now perch'd upon the lady of the flower j 
And either fongftcr holding out their throats, 
And folding up their wings, renewed their notes ; 
As if all day, preluding to the fight, 
They only had rehears'd, to fing by night : 
The banquet ended, and the battle done. 
They di^nc'd by ftar-light and the friendly moon : 
And when they were to part, the laureat queen 
i^upply'd with fteeds the lady of the green. 
Her and her train conducing on the way. 
The moon to follow, and avoid the day. 

This when I faw, inquifitive to know 
The fecret moral of the myftic fliow, 
I darted from my fliade, in hopes to find 
Some nymph to fatisfy my longing mind : 
And as my fair adventure fell, I found 
A lady all in white, with laurel crowned. 
Who clos'd the rear, and foftly pac\l along, 
Kt'peating to herfelf the former fong. 
With due refpe^l my body I inclined. 
As to fome being of fuperlor kind, 

I And 



Is fof 



The flower and the LEAF. 1S3 

And made my court according to the day, 
Wifhing her queen and her a happy May. 
Great thanks, my d:mghter, v/ith a gracious bow, 
She fald j and I, who much defu'd to know 
Of whence fhc was, yet fearful how to break 
My mind, adventured humbly thus to fpeak : 
Madam, might I prefume and not offend. 
So may the ftars and fliining moon attend 
Your nightly fports, as you vouchfafe to tell 
What nymphs they were who mortal forms excel. 
And what the knights who fought in- lifted fields 

well. 

To this the darne reply'd : Fair da\ightcr, know, , 
That what you faw was all a fairy fliow : 
And all thofe airy fhapes you now behold. 
Were human bodies once, and cloth'd with earthly mold, 
Our fouls, not yet prepared for upper light. 
Till doomfday wander in the (hades of night ; 
This only holiday of all the year. 
We privileged in funfliine may appear : 
With fongs and dance we celebrate the day. 
And with due honours ufher in the May. 
At other times we reign by night alone. 
And porting through the fkies purfue the moori t 
But when the morn arifes, none are found j 
For cruel Demogorgon walks the round. 
And if he finds a fairy lag in light, 
He drives the wretch before, and laflies into night. 

All courteous are by kind j and ever proud 
With friendly ofiices to help the good. 

N 4 In 



i84 DRYDEN'S POEMS. 

In every land we have a larger fpace 

Than what is known to you of mortal race : 

Where we with green adorn our fairy bowers. 

And ev'n this grove, unfeen before, is ours. 

Know farther ; every lady clothM in white, 

Andy crown'd with oak and laurel every knight. 

Are fervants to the leaf, by liveries known 

Of innocence } and I inyfclf am one. 

Saw you not her fo graceful to behold 

In white attire, and crownM with radiant gold ? 

The fovereign lady of our land is (he, 

Diana callM, the queen of chaftity : 

And, for the fpotlefs name of maid (he bears, 

That Agnus caftus in her hand appears; 

And all her train, with leafy chaplets crown'd. 

Were for unblam'd virginity renowned 5 

But thofe the chief and higheft in command 

Who bear thofe holy branches in their hand : 

The knights adorn'd with laurel crowns are they, 

Whom death nor danger never could difmay, 

Vi6lorious names, who made the world obey : 

Who, while they livM, /in deeds of arras excelled. 

And after death for deities were held. 

But thofe, who wear the woodbine on their brow. 

Were knights of love, who never broke their vow j 

Firm to their plighted faith, and ever free 

From fears, and fickle chance, and jealoufy. 

The lords and ladies, who the woodbine beai*. 

At true as Triftram and Ifotta were. 

But 



I 



The flower and the LEAF. 185 

But what are thofe, faid I, th' un conquered nine, 
Who crown'd with laurel-wreaths in golden armour 

fhine? 
And who the knights in green, and what the train 
Of ladies drefsM with daifies on the plain ? 
Why both the bands in worfhip difagree. 
And fome adore the flower, and fome the tree ? 

Juft is your fuit, fair daughter, faid the dame : 
Thofe laurelM chiefs were men of mighty fame ; 
Nine worthies were they calPd of different rites. 
Three jews, three pagans, and three chriftian knights. 
Thefc, as you fee, ride foremoft in the field, 
As they the foremoft rank of honour held. 
And all ip deeds of chivalry excelM : 
Their temples wreathM with leaves, that ftill renew $ 
For deathlefs laurel is the viftor's due : 
Who bear the bows were knights in Arthur's reign. 
Twelve they, and twelve the peers of Charlemain ; 
For bows the ftrength of brawny arms imply, 
Emblems of valour and of viftory. ^ 

Behold an order yet of newer date. 
Doubling their number, equal in their ftatej 
Our England's ornament, the crown's defence. 
In battle brave, prote£lors of their prince t 
Unchanged by fortune, to their fovcrcign true. 
For which their manly legs are bound with blue. 
Thefe, of the garter callM, of faith unftain'd, 
In fighting fields the laurel have obtained, 
And well repaid the honours which they gain'd. 
The laurel wreaths were firft by Caefar worn. 
And ftill they Cwfar's fucceffors adorn : 



} 



iS6 DRYDEN'S POEMS. 

One leaf of this is immortality, 

And more of worth than all the world can buy. 

One doubt remains, faid I, the dames in green. 
What were their qualities, and who their queen ? 
Flora commands, faid fhe, thofe nymphs and knights. 
Who liv'd in flothful eafe and loofe delights j 
Who never a6ls of honour durft purfue. 
The men inglorious knights, the ladies all untrue : 
Who, nursM in idlenefs, and trained in courts, 
Pafs'd all their precious hoiirs^in plays and fports. 
Till death behind came ftalking on, unfeen, 
And witherM (like the ftorm) the frefhncfs of their green 
T4icfe, and their mates, enjoy their prefent hour. 
And therefore pay their homage to the flower. 
Byt knights in knightly deeds fhould perfevere. 
And ftiil continue what at firft they were j 
Continue, and proceed in honour's fair career. 
No room for cowardice, or dull delay ; 
From good to better they ftiould urge their way. 
For this with golden fpurs the chiefs are graced. 
With pointed rowels arm'd to mend their hafte ; 
For this with laftinjg leaves their brows are bound j 
For- laurel is the fign of labour crownM, 
Which bears the bitter blaft, nor (haken falls to ground : 
From winter winds it fuffers no decay. 
For ever frefli and fair, and every month is May. 
Ev"'n when the vital fap retreats below, 
Ev'n when the hoary head is hid in fnow ; 
The life is in the leaf, and ftill between 
The fits of falling fnow appears the ftreaky green. 

Not 



I 
I 



The flower and the LEAF. i«7 

Not fo the flower, which lafts for little fpace, 

A fhort-livM good, and an uncertain grace ; 

This way and that the feeble ftem is driven, 

Weak to fuftain the ftorms and injuries of heaven. 

Propp'd by the fpring, it lifts aloft the head. 

But of a fickly beauty^' foon to fhed j 

In fummer living, and in winter dead. 

For things of tender kind, for pleafure made. 

Shoot up with fwift increafe, and fudden are decay'd* 

With humble words, the wifeft I could frame> 
And proffer'd fervice, I repaid the dame 5 
That, of her grace, (he gave her maid to know 
The fecret meaning of this moral fhow. 
And flie, to prove what profit I had' made 
Of myftic truth, in fables firft conveyed. 
Demanded till the next returning May, 
Whether the leaf or flower I would obey ? 
I chofe the leaf; fhe fmiPd with fober chear. 
And wifliM me fair adventure for the year. 
And gave me charms and flgils, for defence 
Againft ill tongues that fcandal innocence;: 
But I, faid fhe, my fellows muft purfue, 
Already paft the plain, and out of view. 

We parted thus ; I homeward fped my way, 
BewiklerM in the wood till dawn of day : 
And met the merry crew who dancM about the May. 
Then late refrefh'd with fleep, I rofe to write 
The vifionary vigils of the night : 
Blufh, as thou may^ft, my little book, with fliame> 
Nor hope with homely verfe to purchafe fame 5 
For fuch thy Maker chofe : and fo defign'd 
Thy limple flile to luit thy lowly kind. T Vl^ 



i 



i«t DRYDEN'S POEMS. 

The wife of BATH, 

Her tale. 

T N days of old, when Arthur fiJlM the throne, 
* Whofc afts and fame to foreign lands were blown 5 
The king of elfs and little fairy queen 
Gambord on heaths, and dancM on every green ; 
And where the jolly troop had led the round. 
The grafs unbidden rofe, and markM the g^round : 
Nor darkling did they glance, the filver light 
Of Phoebe fervM to guide their fteps aright. 
And, with their tripping pleas'd, prolong the ] 
Her beams they followed, where at full fhe plaid. 
Nor longer than fhe fhed her horns they ftaid. 
From thence with airy flight to foreign lands conveyN 
Above the reft our Britain held they dear. 
More foleuinly they kept their fabbaths here. 
And made more fpacious rings, and revel'd half the | 
year. 
I fpeak of ancient times, for now the fwain 
Returning late may pafs the woods in vain, 
And never hope to fee the nightly train : 
In vain the dairy now with mint is drefsM, 
The dairy -maid expe6ls no fairy gueft. 
To flcim the bowls, and after pay the feaft. 
She fighs, and fhakes her empty (hoes in vain, 
No filver penny to reward her pain ; 
For priefts, with prayers and other goodly geer. 
Have made the merry goblins difappear j 

I And 



I 

r night. 3 

yd.J 



} 



The wife of BATH^s TALE. i%^ 

And where they play'd their merry pranks before. 
Have fprinkled holy water on the floor : 
And friars that through the wealthy regions run. 
Thick as the motes that twinkle in the fun, 
Refort to farmers rich, and blefs their halls. 
And exorcile the beds, and crofs the walls : 
This makes the fairy quires forfake the place. 
When once 'tis hallow'd with the rites of grace r 
But in the walks where wicked elves have been. 
The learning of the parifh now is feen, ^ 

The midnight parfon polling o'er the green. 
With gown tuck'd up, to wakes, for Sunday next. 
With humming ale encouraging his text; 
Nor wants tlie holy leer to country-girl betwixt. 
From fiends and imps he fets the village free. 
There haunts not any incubus but he» 
The maids and women need no danger fear 
To walk by night, and fan£lity fo near : 
For by fome haycock, or fome fliady thorn,. 
He bids his beads both even fong and morn. 

It fo befel in this king Arthur's reign, 
A lufty knight was pricking o'er the plain ; 
A bachelor he was, and of the courtly train* 
It happened, as he rode, a damftl gay 
In ruflet robes to market took her way : 
Soon on the girl he call an amorous eye, 
So ftraigiit (lie walk'd, and on her pafterns high : 
If feeing her behind he llk'd her pace, 
Now turning ihort, be better likes her face* 

Hft 



\ 



391 DRYDEN'S POEMS. 

His leave thus taken, on his way he went 
With heavy heart, and full of difcontent, 
Mifdoubting much, and fearful of th' event. 
'Twas hard the truth of fuch a point to find. 
As was not yet agreed among the kind. 
Thus on he went ; ftill anxious more and more, 
AflcM all he met, and knock'd at every door ; 
EnquirM of men ; but made his chief requeft 
To learn from women what they lovM the beft. 
They anfwerM each according to her mind 
To pleafe herfelf, not all the female kind. 
One was fflf wealth, another was for place : 
Crones, old and ugly, wifti'd a better face. 
The widow's wi(h was oftentimes to wed ; 
The wanton maids were all for fport a-bed. 
Some faid the fex were pleasM with handfome lies. 
And fome grofs flattery lov'd without difguife : 
Truth is, fays one, he feldom fails to win 
Who flatters well ; for that's our darling (in ; 
But long attendance, and a duteous mind. 
Will work ev'n with the wifeft of the kind. 
One thought the fex's prime felicity 
Was from the bonds of wedlock to be free ; 
Their pleafures, hours, and a6lions, all their own» 
And uncontrol'd to give account to none. 
Some wifli a hufband-fool ; but fuch are curft. 
For fools perverfe of hufbands are the worft : 
All women would be counted chafte and wife. 
Nor fhould our fpoufes fee, but with our eyas ; 

For 



TThb 1vil!*E OP BATH'8 tAlE. I9J 

Tor fools v^ll'prate 5 and though they want the wit 
To find clofe faults, yet open blots 5^111 hit : 
Though better for^thcir-eafe to hold their t6h^e» 
•For woman-kind was never in the wroj^gf. 
So noife enfues, and quarrels laft Tor life ; 
The wife abhois the fool, the fool the wife. 
And fome men fay that great delight have Vi^e^ 
To be for truth cxtollM, and fecrecy : 
And conftant ip one purpofe ftill to dwell 4 
And not our hulbands counfels to^reveal. 
But that's a fable : -for our fex is frail, 
Inventing father than not t^ll a tale. 
Like leaky iieves ho fecrets we can hold s 
'Witnefs the famous tale that Ovid told. 

Midas the king, as in his book appears, 
iBy Phoebus was endowed with afs^s ears. 
Which under his long locks he well conceal'd, 
(As menarchs vices muft not be revealM) 
Tor fear the people have them in the wind. 
Who long ago were neither dumb nor blind : 
14or apt to think from heaven their title fprings^ 
Since Jove and Mars l^t off begetting kings. 
This Midas knew s and durft communicate 
To none but to his wife his ears of ftate : 
*One muft betrufted, and he thought her fi^ 
As paning prudent, and a parlous wit. 
To this fagacious cortfcflbr he went, 
And told her what a gift the Gods had fent 1 
But told it under matrimonial ieal. 
With ftri^l injun^ion never to reveal. 

VW..JII. O Th» 



«95 BRYDEN'S POEMS* 

The laft I gliefs § atid if I read Aright, 
Thofe of our fet are bound to ferve a knight ; 
Perhaps good counfel may your grief afTaage, 
Then tell your pain ; for wifdom is in age. 

To thi« the krfi^t : Good mother, would you kno# 
The fecret caufe and ipring of all my woe ? 
My life muft with to-morrow's light expire^ 
Unlcfs I tell what woilien mod defire. 
Now could you help me at this hard eflay. 
Or /or your inborn goodnefs, or for pay 5 
Yours is my life, redeemed by your advice, 
AHc what you pleafe, and I will pay the pricey 
The proudeft kerchief of the court fhaH reft 
Well fatisfy'd of what they love the beft. 
Plight me thy faith, quoth flie, that what I afk. 
Thy danger over, and performM thy talk, 
That thou (halt give for hire of thy demand ; 
Here ta|f:e thy oath, and feal it on my hand | 
1 warrant thee, oh peril of my lif(^ 
Thy words (hall pleafe both widow, maid, and wifC 
Moi% words there needed not to move the knight^ 
To take her •iferj and kit truth to plight* 
With that (he fpread a mantle on the ground, 
'^nd, firft inquiring whither he was bound, . 
Bade him not fear, though long and rough the 1^^ 
At court he ihould arrive ere break of day; 
His horfe fliould find the way without a guide. 1 

She faid : with fury they begaia to ride, > 

Ut on the midft, the beldam at his £do» J 

^7 iFte 



The WJFE tF BATH'S TALE, i^ 

The horfc, what devil drove I c^not tell. 
But only this^ they fped their journey well s 
And all the way the crone informed the knight. 
How he fliould anfwcr the demand aright. 

To court they came ; the news was quickly Spread 
Of his returning to redeem his head. 
The female fenate was aifembl^d foon 
With all the mob of women of the town : 
The queen fate lord chief juftice^of the hall. 
And bade the crier cite the criminal. • 

The knight appeared ; and filence they proelain\ % 
Then firft the culpnt anfwer'd to his name : 
And, after forms of law, was hA required' 
To name the thing that women raoil defirM. 

Th' ^nder, taught his lefion by the way,- 
And by his counfel order'd what to fiiy, 
Thus bqU began : My lady liege, faid he, 
What all your fex defue is Sovereignty. 
The v/ife ai&£is her hufband to command ; 
All muft be her's, both money, honfe, and land! 
The naids are miftreifes ev'o in their name; 
And of their fcrvants full dominion claim* 
This, at the peril of my head, F fay, 
A blunt plain truth, the icx a^irer tb fway. 
You to rule all, while we, like flavec, obey. 
There wa» not one, or widow, maid, or wife. 
But faid the knight had well deferv'd his life. 
Ev'n fair Geneura, with a bluft, confefsM 
The man liad' found what women love the befti 

O 3' Upftartt 



19S . DRYDEN'S POEMS. 

Upftarts the b':]damy who was there unfcen r 
And, reverence made, accofted thus the queen. 
My liege, r.ld ftie, before the court arife. 
May I, poor.wrjtch, find favour in your eyes, 
Tft grant ray juft rec)ueft : 'tvvris I who tnught 
The knit;!it this anfwer, and infpird his thought. 
None but a worn m could a man dWtSi 
To tell us vvcmen, wliat we nioft affefl. 
But finl 1 (wore him on his knightly troth, 
(y\#ul here demand performance of his oath) 
To gniftt the boon that next I fhoiiid defire j 
He gave KiSk faith, and I expe<5l my hire : 
My promii'e is fulfillM : I fav'd his life. 
And claim, his debt, to take me for his wife. 
The knigl^t was afK.'d, nor could his oaih deny. 
But hop'd they would not force him to comply. 
The women,- who would ratiicr wreft the laws, 
Thrin let a fiiler-plaintiff lofc ilie caufe, 
(As ju:lges on the bench more gracious are. 
And more attent, to brothers of the bar) 
Ci y\i one and all, the fuppliant fliould have right. 
And to the gran dame hag aujudg'd the knight. . . 

In vain he figh'd, and oft with tears defir'd. 
Some reafonable fuit might be requir'd. 
But llill the crone was conftant to her note : •• 

The more he fpoke, the more flie ftretch'd her throat» 
In vain he proffer'd all his goods, to fave 
His body deftin'd to .th^t living grave. 
The liquorifli hag reje6ls the.p^lf with fcorn ; 
And nothing but tiie man \vpuid ferve her turn* 

Not 



The wife op BATH'd TALE.' 199 

Not all the wealth of Eaftern kings, faid flie. 
Have power to port my plighted love and me : 
And, old and ugly as I am, and poor,- 
Yet never will I break the faith I fwore ; 
For mine thou art by promife, tliiring life, 
And I thy loving and obedient wife. 

My love ! nay rather my damnation thou. 
Said he : nor am I bound to keep my vow ; 
The fiend thy fire hath fent thee from below, 
Eii'e how could'lt thou my fecret forrows know ?* 
Av?nt, old witch, for I reno mcc thy bed : 
The queen may take the forfeit of my head, 
Ere. any of my race fo foul a crone fhall wed. 
Both heard, the julge pronounced againft the knight j 
So was he marry'd in his own dcfpite s 
And all day after hid him as an owl, 
Not able to fuftain a fight fo foul. 
Peiiiaps the reader thinks I do him wrong, 
To pafs the marriage feafl: and nuptial fong : 
Mirth there was none, the man was a-la-f/iort. 
And little courage had to make his court. 
To be J they went,' the bridegroom and the bride : 
Was never fuch an ill-pair'd couple ty\i ; 
Relllefs he tofs'd, and tumbled to and fro. 
And roird and wriggled further off for woe. 
The good old wife lay fmiling by his fide. 
And caught him in her quivering arms, and cry'd, 
When you my ravifh'd predeceflbr faw. 
You were not then become this man of ftraw ; 
Had you been fuch, you might have fcap'd the law, 

O 4 Is 



} 



Is this the cuftom ofking Arthur's court ? 
Are all round-table knights of fuch a fort ? 
Remember I am fhe who fav'd your life. 
Your loving, lawful, and complying wife i 
Not thus you iwore in your unhappy houry 
Nor I for this return employed my power. 
In time of need, I was your faithful friends 
Nor did I Hnce, nor ever will, offend. 
Bdieve me, my lovM lord, 'tis much unkind;. 
What fury has poflefs'd your alter'd mind ? 
Thus on my wedding night-without pretence- 
Come turn this way, or tell me my offence. 
If not your wife, let reafon'& rule perfuade j 
Name but my fault, amends Ihall foon be made* 
Amends ! nay that's impoffible, faid he 5 
What change of age or uglinefs can be } 
Or, could Medea's magic mend thy face. 
Thou art dcfcended from fo mean a race. 
That never knight was match'd with fuch diigr^ce. 
What wonder, madam, if I move my fide,. 
When, if I turn, I turn to fuch a bride ? 
And is this all that troubles you fo fore ? 
And what the devil could'H thou wilb me morftr 
Ah, Benedicite, reply'd' the crone : 
Then caufe of juft complaining have you none* 
The remedy to this were foon apply'd; 
Would you be like the bridegroom to the bride 9 
flut, for you fay a long defcended race, 
iVnd wealth, and dignity, and power, and placr. 



I 



The wife o z B ATH> T£flf.E. lox 

Make gentlemen, and that yopr high degree 

Is much difparagM to be matched with me ^ 

Know this, my lord^- nobility of blood 

Is but a: glittering and fallacious good: 

The noblemajfi is he wlfofe noblemind 

Is fiird with inborn worth, unborrowed from hift:kind^ 

The king of heaven was in a mangef laid j 

And took his earth but from an humble maid ; 

Then what can bij th, or mortal men, beftow ? 

Since floods no higher than their fountains flow- 

We, who for name and empty honour ftrive. 

Our true nobility from him derive. 

your ancedors, who puff your mind with pride^. 

And vaft eftates to mighty titles ty'd,. 
Did not your bpnour, but their own, advance ;> 
For virtue comes not by inheritance. 
If you tralineate from your father's mind^ 
What are you clfe but of a baftard-kind ? 
Do, as your great progenitors have done. 
And by their virtues prove yourfelf: their ion.. 
No father can infufe or wit or grace $ 
A mother comes acrofs, and mars the race. 
A grand fire or a grandame taints the blood 5 
And feldom three defcents continue good- 
Were virtue by defcent, a noble name 
Could never villanize his father's fame : 
But, as the fh-ft, the laft of all the line 
Would like the fun even in defcending fhinc $ 
Take fire, and bear it to the darkeft houfe. 
Betwixt king Arthur's court and Caucafut 5 

If 



toz / DRYDEN'S POEMS. 

If you depart, the flame (hall ftill remain, 

And the bright blaze enlighten all the plain j 

Nor, till the fuel perifh, can decay. 

By niture formM on things combuflible to prey. 

Such is not man, who, mixing better (ttA 

With worfe, begets a bafe degenerate breed : 

The bad corrupts the good, and leaves behind 

No trace of all the gn-at begetter's mind. 

The father finks within his Ton, we fee, 

And often rifes in the third degree j 

If better luck a better mother give, 
V Chance gave us being, and by chance v/e live. 

Such as our atoms were, even fuch are we, 

Or call it chance, or ftrong neceflity : 

Thus loaded with dead weight, the will is free. 

And thus it needs muft be : for feed conjoined 

Lets into nature's work th' impeift'6l kind; 

But fire, th' enli'.ener of the general frame, 

Is one, it<? operation ftill the fame. 

Its principle is in itfelf : while ours 

Works, as confederates war, with mingled powers j 

Or man or woman, whichfoever fails : 
[ And, oft, the vijgour of the worfe prevails. 

^ther with fulphur blended alters hue, 

And cafts a dufky gleam of Sodom blue. 

Thus, in a brute, their ancient honour ends. 

And the fair mermaid in a fifti defcends : 

The line is gone ; no longer duke or earl ; 

But, by himfelf degraded, turns a churl. 

Nobility 



\ 



i 



The wife of BATH's TALE, aoj 

Nobility of Wood is bdt renown 

Of thy great fathers by their virtue known, 

And a long trail of light, to thee defcending down 

If in ihy fmcke it emls, their glories fliine } 

But infamy and villanage are thine. 

Then what I faid before is plainly ftiow'd. 

The true njbilitv proceeds from Go:i : 

Nor left us by inheritance, but given 

By bounty of our ftars, and grace of heaven. 

Thus from a captive Servius Tullins rofe. 

Whom for his virtues the firil Romans chofe : 

Fabricius from their walls repcH'd the foe, 

Whofe noble hands had exeicis'd the plough. 

From henee, my lord and love, I thus conclude^ 

That though my homely anceftors were rude, 

JVlean as I am, yet I may have the grace 

To make you father of a generous race : 

And noble then am I, when I begin, 

In virtue cloath'd, to cail the rags of fin. 

If poverty be my upbraided crime, 

And you believe in Heaven, there was a time 

When He, the great controller of our fate, 

Dcign'd to. be man, and livM in low eftate: 

Which he who had the world at hii difpofe. 

If poverty were vice, would never choofe. 

PhilofoplievS have faid, and poets fing, 

That a glad poverty 's an honeft thing. 

Content is wealth, the riches of the mind; 

Aad. happy he who can that treafure find,. 

7 But 



i 



9P4. pKYPEN'S VOl^MS. 

!put the bafe mifer ftarves amidft. his (lore, 

Broods on his gold, and, griping ftill at moiv> 

Sits fadly pining, and believes he 's poor. 

The ragged beggar, though he want relief. 

Has not to lofc, and fings before the thief. 

Want is a bitter and a hateful good, 

Becaufe its virtues are not underftood : 

Yet many things, impoffible to thought. 

Have been by need to fuH perfection brought r 

The daring of the foul proceeds fron^ thence, 

Sharpnefs of wit, and aflive diligence j 

Prudence at pnce, a^nd fortitude, it givesj 

And, if in patience taten, mends our lives ; 

For eVn ^^^^ indigence, that brings me low. 

Makes m^ myfelf, and Him above, to l^now. 

A good which none would challenge, few would chooie^ 

A fair pofleilion, w,hich mankind r^fufe. 

If we from wealth to poverty defcend> 

Want gives to know the flatterer fcota the friend. 

If I am old and ugly, well for you, 

Uo lewd adulter^c will my loye purfnej 

Nor jealoufy, the bane of marry.M life, 

Shall hatmt yon for a withered homely wi& $• 

Per age and uglinefs, as all agree. 

Are the beft guards of female chaftity^ 

Yet fince I fee your mind is wprldly be«t, 
1 Ml do my beft to further your content. 
And therefore of two gifts in my, difpofe. 
Think ere yom, Sj^ts^i If grant y9^ Icavf to chpg/e; 

Would 



The wife of BATH*s TALE* ^o| 
Would you I fhould be ftill dcform'd and old^ 
Naufeous to touch, and loathfome to behold | 
On this condition to remain for life 
A careful, tender, and obedient wife, 
In all I can contribute to your eafe, 
And not in deed, or word, or thought, difpleafe f 
Or would you rather have me young and fair. 
And take the chance that "happens to your fharct 
Temptations are in beauty, and in ^outh, 
And how can you depend upon my truth ? 
>Iow weigh the danger v^rith the doubtful blifs, 
And thank yourfelf if aught fhould fall amifs. 

Sore figh'd the knight, who this long fermon heard| 
At length, confidering all, his heart ht chearMj 
And thus reply'd : My lady and my wife. 
To your wife conllu£l I refign my life: 
Choofe you for me, for well you underftand 
The future good and fll, on either lifan'd s 
But if an humble hufband may requeil, 
^Provide, and order all things fof the befl | 
Your's be the care to profit, and to j^eafe t 
And let your fubjeft fervant take his eafe. 

Then thus In peace, quoth fhe, concludes the (txifCf 
$ince I am tumM the hufband, you the wtfei 
The matrimonial victory is mine. 
Which, having fairly gainM, I will cefign} 
Forgive if I have faid or done amifs, 
And feal the bargain with a friendly kifs s 
% promisM you but one content to fhare^ 
^ttt now I will iMCome both good and fair, 

K9 



\ 



loS T)RYT)EW*S POEMS. 

For David left hira, when he went to reft, 
Jlis lyre 5 and after'him he fung the beft, 
!H& bore his great commiiTion in his look : 
3ut fweetly tempered awe ; and roften'd all he fpoke. 
Me preach'd the joys of heaven, and pains of hell, 
And wam'd the fmner vith becoming zeal 5 
*35irt on eternal mercy lov'd to dwell. 
He taught the gofp^l rather than the law; 
iAnd forc'd himfelf to drive 5 bat lov'd to draW. 
iFor fear but-frcezes minds : 'but l©vc, like heati 
.Exhales the foul fublirtie, to fcek her naff ve feat,' 
To threats the ftubborn finner oft is hard, 
Wrapped in his crimes, againft th^ ftohn prcpar'd^ 
^t, -when tht niilder beams df mercy play. 
Me melts, and throWs his cuihbrous cloak aiway. 
iightning and thunder (hbrven's artillfery) 
jfVs harbingers before th' Almighty fly j 
Thofe but proclaim his ftile, and difappear; 
The ftiUer found fucceeds, and God is there. 

The tithes, his parffli fredy paid, he took; 
TBut never fued^ or curil'd wJthljell and book. 
With patience bearing wrbhg; but offering notice 
iince every man is'free to bfe his own. 
The country cfauris, according to their kind, 
<Who gnidg^ their dues, and Jove to be 'behind), 
The lefs he fought his offering*, pincVd the nolorcj^ 
And praised a prieft contented to "be poor. 

Yet of his little he had foide to fpare, 
Voiced tbe fatiii&% taiA toxlotke the hiae^ 

For 



CHARACTER OF A GOOD PARSON. 209 

Foj- mortifyM he was to that degree, 

A poorer than himfelf he would not lee. 

True pricfts, he faid, and preachers of the word. 

Were only ftewards of their fovercign lord j 

Nothing was thcir's j but all the public ftore : 

Intruft d riches, to relieve the poor. 

Who, /hould they Ileal, for want of his relief. 

He judg'd himfelf accomplice wiih the thief. 

Wide was his pariih j not contracted clofe 
In ftrects, but here and there a ftraggling houfe 5 
Yet ftill he was at hand, without requeft, 
To ferve the ficlc ; to fuccour the diilrefs'd : 
Tempting, on foot, alone, without affright. 
The dangers of a dark tempeftuous night. 

All this, the good old man performed alone. 
Nor fparM his pains ; for curate he had none. 
Nor durft he truft another with his care j 
Nor rode himfelf to Paul's, the public fair. 
To chaffer for preferment with his gold, 
Where bifhoprics and fmecurcs are fold. 
But duly watchM his flock, by night and day; 
Antl from the prowling wolf redeemed the prey : 
And hungry fent the wily fox away. 

The proud he tam'd, the penitent he chearM : 
Nor to rebuke the rich offender fear'd. 
His preaching much, but more his pi-a£iice wrought 
(A living fermon of the truths he taught) j 
For this by rules fevere his life he fquarM : 
That all might fee the do6lrine which they heard. 
Vol. III. P For 



1 



gn'^» ^ 



*io DR YD EN'S POEMS. 

For priefts, he faid, are patterns for the reft 

(The gold of heaven, who bear the God imprefs'd) : 

But when the precious coin is kept unclean, 

The fovereign's image is no longer fecn. 

If they be foul on whom the people truft, 

Well may the bafer brafs contrail a ruft. 

The prelate, for his holy life he prized j 
The worldly pomp of prelacy defpis'd. 
His Saviour came not with a gaudy /how ; 
Nor was his kingdom of the world below. 
Patience in want, and poverty of mind, 
Thefe marks of church and churchmen he defign 
And living taught, and dying left behind. 
The crown he wore was of the pointed thorn : 
In purple he was cimcify'd, not born. 
They who contend for place and high degree, 
Are not his fons, but thofe of Zebedee. 

Not but he knew the (igns of earthly power 
Might well become Saint Peter's fucceffor j 
The holy father holds a double reign, 
'f'he prince may keep his pomp, the fifher muft be plain. 

Such was the faint 5 who (hone with every grace> 
jftefliefting, Mofes like, his Maker's face. 
God faw his image lively was exprefs'd 5 
And his own work, as in creation blefs'd. 

The tempter faw him too with envious eye 5 
And, as on Job, demanded leave to try. 
He took the time when Riciiard was depos'd. 
And high and low with Happy 'Harry clos'd. 

7 This 



] 



CHARACTER op a GOQD PARSON. «t 

This prince, though great in arms, the prieft wlthftood i 
Near though he wa«, yet not the next of blood. 
Had Richard imconftrain'd, refign'd the tfarone, 
A king can give no more than h his own t 
The title ftood entaird, had Richard had a £oru 

Conquefty an odiou« name, was laid afide^ ^ 

Where aU fabmitted, none the battle try'd. 
The fenfelefs plea of right by providence 
Was, by a flattering prieft, invented fince| 
And lafts no longer than the prefent iway j 
But juftifies the next who comes in play. 

The people^s right remains ; Jet thofe Who dare 
Difpute their power, ^hen they the judges arc. 

He jom'd not in their choice, 1>ecaufe he knew 
Worfe might, and often did, from change enfue. 
Much to himfelf he thought ; l)ut little fpoke ; 
And, undepriv'd, his benefice focfook. 

Now, through the land, his cure of fouls he ftretcVdj 
And like a primitive apoftle preached. 
Still chearful ; ever conftant to his calli 
By many followed ; lov'd by moft, admirM by alU 
With what he begg'd, his l>rethren he relievM} 
^ And^ve'|he charities himfelf receivM. 
Gave, while he taught ; and edify 'd the more^ 
•Because he ihew^d, by proof, ^twas eafy to be poor. 

He went not with the crowd to fee a ihrine j 
3ut fed u$» by the way, with food divine« 

Pa U 



21* DRYDEN'S POEMS. • 

In deference to his virtues, I forbear 
To (hew you what the reft in orders were : 
This brilliant is fo fpotlefs, and fo bright, 
He needs no foil, but Ihines by his own proper light. 



TRANS- 



TRANSLATIONS 



FROM 



B O C C A C E. 



Ps 



C "5 1 

SIGISMONDA 

AND 

GUISCARDO. 

WJ" H I L E Norman Tancred in Salerno rcign'd, 

^ ^ The title of a gracious prince he gainM j 
Till, turn'd a tyrant in his latter days. 
He loft the luftre of his former praife j 
And from the bright meridian where he ftood> 
Defcending, dipped his hands in lovers blood. 
This prince, of Fortune's favour long polTefsM, 
Yet was with one fair daughter only blefsM $ 
And blefs'd he might have been with her alone s 
But oh ! how much more happy had he none ! 
She was his care, his hope, and his delight, 
Moft in bis thought, and ever in his fight : 
Next, nay beyond his life, he held her dear; 
She liv'd by him, and now he livM in her. 
For this, when ripe for marriage, he delayM 
Her nuptial bands, and kept her long a maid, 
As envying any elfe fhould (hare a part 
Of what was bis, and claiming all her heart. 
At length, as public decency required. 
And all his vaflals eagerly defir'd. 
With mind averfe, he rather underwent 
His people's will, than gave his own confent* 

P 4 S( 



2i6 DRYI>EN'S POEMS. 

So was flie torn, as from a lover's fide, 
And made almolt in his defpJte a bride. 

Short weie her niarri age joys j (ov in the prime 
Of youth, her lord expirM before his time j 
And to her father's court in little fpace 
Reftor'd anew, (he held a higher place ; 
More lov'd, and more exalted into grace. 
This princefs frefli and young, and fair and wife. 
The worfhip-'d idol of her lather's eyes. 
Did all her fex in every grace exceed, 
And had more wit befide than women need. 

Youth, health, and eafe, anumoft an amorous mind> 
To fecond nuptials had her thoughts inclin'd : 
And former joys had left a fccret rting behind. 
But, prodigal in eveiy other grant. 
Her fire left unfupply'd her only want j 
And (he, betwixt her modefty and pride, 
lier wiilies, which ftie could not lielp, would hide* 

Refolv'd at laft to lofe no longer time. 
And yet to pleafe herfcif without a crime. 
She caft her eyes around the court, to find 
A worthy fubjedl iiiiting to her mind, 
To him in holy nuptiiils to be ty'd, 
A fecming widow, and a fecret brid-e. 
Among the train of courtiers, one /he found 
With all the gifts of bounteous nature crown'd. 
Of gentle blood j but one whofe niggard fate 
Had fet him far below Jier high eftate j 
Guifcard his name was call'd, of blooming age. 
Now fquire to Tancred, and before his page : 



I 



SIGISMONDA AND GUISCARDO. ti^ 

To him, the choice of all the (hinlnjr crowd. 
Her heart the noble Sigifmonda vow'd. 

Yet hitherto fhe kept her love conceal'd, , 
And with thofe graces every day beheld 
The graceful youih } and eveiy day increased 
The raging fires that burned within her breaft ; • 

Some fecret charm did all her a^s attend, 
And what his fortune wanted, hers could meivd } 
Till, as the fire wil force its outward way. 
Or, in the prifon pent, confume the prey j 
So long her earned eyes on his were fet. 
At length their twiltcd rays together met ; 
And he, furprizM with humble joy, fui"vey'd 
One fweet regard, (hot by the royal maid : 
Not well afiur'd, while doubtful hopes he nursM, 
A fecond gbnce came gliding like the firft j 
And he, who faw the (harpnefs of the dart. 
Without defence received it in his heart. 
In public, though their palTion wanted fpcech. 
Yet mutual looks interpreted for each ; 
Time, ways, and means of meeting were dcny'd 5 
Vtut all thofe wants ingenious love fupply'd. 
Th' inventive God, who never fails his pait, 
lufpires the wit, when once he waims the heart*. 

When Guifcard next was in the circle feen. 
Where Sigifmonda held the place of queen, 
A hollow cane within her hand (lie brought. 
But in the concave had enclosed a note j 
With this file feem'd to play, and, as in fport, 
Tol's'd to her love, in prefence of the court j 

Take 



2iS DRYDEN'S POEMS. 

Take it, (he faid j and when your needs require^ 
This little brand will ferve to light your fire. 
He took it with a bow, and foon divin'd 
The feeming toy was not for nought defignM : 
But when retir'd, fo long with curious eyes 
He viewM his prefent, that he found the prize. 
Much was in little writ j and all convcyM 
With cautious care, for fear to be betray'd 
By fome falie confident, or favourite maid. 
The time, the place, the manner how to meet. 
Were all in punctual order plainly writ i 
But, fince a truft muft be, fhe thought it bcft 
To put it out of laymen's power at leaft ; 
And for their folemn vows prepar*d a prieft. 

Guifcard (her fecret purpofe underftood) 
With joy prepared to meet the coming good j 
Nor pains nor danger was refolv'd to fpare. 
But ufe the means appointed by the fair. 

Next the proud palace of Salerno ftood 
A mount of rough afcent, and thick with wood. 
Through this a cave was dug with vaft expence r 
The work it/eem'd of fome fufpicious prince, 
Who, when abufmg power with lawlefs might. 
From public juftice would fecure his flight. 
The paflage made by many a winding way, 
Reach'd eV'n the room in which the tyrant lay. 
Fit for his purpofe, on a lower floor. 
He lodg'd, whofe iflue was an iron door ; 
From whence, by flairs defcendin^ to the ground. 
In the blind grot a fafe retreat he found. 



I 



It* 



SIGISMdKDA ANi> GUrSCARIKh %t^ 

Its outlet ended in a brake overgrown 

With brambles, choak*d by titoe, and now unknown*. 

A rift there was, whidh fibm the moUntain*» height 

ConveyM a glimmerihg arid nnaligiiant light,. 

A breathing-place to draw the diamps away> 

A twilight of an intercepted day. 

The tyrant's den, whofe nle, though loft ta£une> 

Was now th' apartment of the royal dame j. 

The cavern only to her father known. 

By him was to his darling daughter ihown» 

Neglefted long (he let the fecret reft. 
Till love recall'd it to her labouring breaft^ 
And hinted as the way by heaven defign'd 
The teaclier, by the means he taught, to blind* 
What will not women do, when need infpireSv 
Their wit, or love their inclination fires ! 
Though jealoufy of ftate th' invention founds 
Yet love refin'd upon the former ground* 
That way, the tyrant had relierv'd, to fly 
Purfuing hate, now ferv'd to bring two lovers nigBib. 
The dame, who long in vain had kept the key. 
Bold by deiire, ixplor'd the fecret way ;, 
Now try'd the ftairs, and, wading through the night,. 
Searched all the deep recefe, and iflued into light. 
All this her letter had fo well explained, 
Th' inftni^ed youth might compafs what rcmain'dj 
The cavern *s mouth alone was hard to find, 
Becaufe the path, difus^d,. was out of mind :. 
But in what quarter of the copfe it lay. 
His eye by certaia level could furvey t 

Yet 



tio DRYDEN'S POEMS, 

Yet (for the wood perplexed with thorns he knew} 
A frock of leather o'er his limbs he drew ; 
An I, thus provided, fearch'd the brake around. 
Till ihw choak'd entry of the cave he found. 

Thiis, all prepai'd, the proniisM hour arrived 
So long expefted, and fo well contriv'd : 
With love to friend, th' impatient lover went, 
FencM from the thorns, and trod the deep defcent. 
The confcious prieft, who was fubom'd before. 
Stood ready pofted at the poftern door ; 
The maids in diftant rooms were fent to reft. 
And nothing wanted but th' invited gueft. 
He came, and knocking thrice without delay. 
The longing lady heard, and turn'd the key 5 
At once invaded him with all her charms. 
And the firft ftep he made was in her arms : 
The leathern outfide, boifterous as it was, 
Gave way, and bent beneath her ftrift embrace : 
On either fide the kiflfes flew fo thick. 
That neither he nor (he had breath to fpeak. 
The holy man, amaz'd at what he faw, 
Made hafte to fanftify the blifs by law j 
And mutter'd faft the matrimony o'er, 
For fear committed fin fhould get before. 
His work performed, he left the pair alone, 
Becaufe he knew he could not go too foon ; 
His prefence odious, when his tafk was done. 
What thoughts he had befeems me not to fay ; 
Though fome furmife he went to faft and pray. 
And needed both to drive the tempting thoughts zway 

The 



} 



SIGISMONDA AND GUISCARDO. aai 

The foe once gone, they took their full delight ; 
"•Twas reftlefs rage, and tempeft all the night 5 
For greedy love each moment would employ. 
And grudgM the fhorteft paufes of their joy. 
Thus were their loves aufpicioufly begun, 
And thus with fecret care were carried on. 
The ftealth itfelf did appetite reftore. 
And Icok'd fo like a fin, it plcas'd the more. 
The cave was now become a common way, 
The wicket, often opened, knew the key : 
Love rioted fecure, and, long enjoy'd, 
Was ever eager, and was never cloy'd. 

But as extremes are ftiort, of ill and good. 
And tides at higheft mark regorge their flood 5 
So fate, that could no more imrprove their joy. 
Took a malicious pleafure to deftroy. 

Tancred, who fondly lovM, and whofe delight 
Was plac'd in his fair daughter's daily fight, 
Of cuftom, when his ftate affairs were done. 
Would pafs his pleafing hourswith her alone j 
And, as a father's privilege allowed. 
Without attendance of th' officious crowd. 

It happened once, that when in heat of day 
He try'd to flcep, as was his ufual way. 
The balmy (lumber fled his wakeful eyes. 
And forcM him, in his own defpite, to rife : 
Of fleep forfaken, to relieve his care. 
He fought the converfation of the fair 5 , 
But with her train of damfels (he was gone. 
In Ihady walks the fcorching heat to ihun t 

I He 



^2t DRYDEK^S iPOEMS. 

fie wouki not violate that fweet recefs. 
And found befides awekome heavinds. 
That feiz^dhis eyes ; .and .flvmbery whicK foocgot 
IWlien -call-d before to •come, now xrame vnfoughu 
From light rotirM, behind his daiighter''s bed* 
fie for approaching fleep composed his. head | 
A chair was readyy ibr that -ufe defign^d, 
$o quibed, that he lay at e^ reclinM i 
The curtains -dofely^drawn, the light to /kreen, 
As if he had contdv^^ to lie vnfeen t 
Thns coverM with aa artificial night, 
:Sleep did his office, (bon, smd feaTd his fight. 
With h^ven Averfe 4n ^his ilUomen'd hour 
IVas Qui^ard fiimxnenM IQ thq. fecret bqwer^ 
And the|i»ir:4iymph„ with -expiation iirM, 
Trom iier attending ^arni^s^ was i-etiifd : 
Fore true torlove, ,.$19 ix^sUur'd.time Co pght« 
As not to* nftifs/qno moment of, dc;}fg^t« 
The garden, v£b»|ed on the. level floor, 
:She left 1>ehtod^ and,; Unsking' every, xloor. 
Thought all fecure ^but fittle did (h^ know^ 
Blind to heriate,>ihe had enclosM her foe. 
Attending. Goifcard, . in iiis l/eathern .frock^ 
:Stood ready, i»ith hi«.*thrice'nFejieate4 knocks 
Thrice with », doleful dbund the jarring grate 
Rung desifrand^hoUoWy and prefagM their fate* 
The door unlocked, .to known delight they hafte^ 
And, |>anting inieachiOdier*« annt embracM, 
Ru(h to the xonfeious bed, a mutusd freight. 
And heedliiiifiieft it^witli their wonted Anreight. 



SIGISMONDA AUb GUISCARDO. »iq 

The fudden bound awak'd the flecpmg -fire. 
And (hew'd a fight no parent can defire 5 
His opening eyes at once with odious ricw 
The love difcover'd, and the lover knew : 
He would have cry'd ; but hoping that he dreamt^ 
Amazement tyM his tongue, and ftoppM th' attempt. 
Th' enfuing moment all the truth declar-d. 
But now he flood colleSled, and prepared. 
For malice and revenge had put him on his guard. 
So like a lion, that unheeded lay, 
DifTembling fleep, and watchful to betray. 
With inward rage he meditates his prey. 
The thoughtlefs pair, indulging their defires 5 
Alternate, kindled, and then quenched their fires 5 
Nor thinking in the fhades of death thty played. 
Full of themfelves, themfelves alone furvey'd. 
And, too fecure, were' by them'ielves betrayM. 
Long time diffolv'd in pleafure thus they lay. 
Till nature could no more fuifice their play $ 
Then rofe the youth, and through the cave again 
Return^ ; the princeis mingled with her train. 

RefolvM his unripe vengeance to defer. 
The royal fpy, when now the coaft was clear. 
Sought not the garden, but retirM unfeen, . 
To brood in fecret on bis gathered fpleen. 
And methodize revenge : to death he grievM $ 
And, but he faw the crime, had fcarce believ*d. 
Th^ a()pOfntment for th* enfuing night he heard i 
And therefore in the tavern h^d prepoir'd 
Twp brawny yeomen of his trufty guard. 

Scarce 



! 



\ 



I 



ai4 DR YD EN'S POEMS. 

Scarce had unwary Guifcard fet his foot 
Within the foremoft entrance of the grot. 
When thefe in fecret anabufh ready lay j 
And nifhing on the fudtien feiz\i the prey: 
EncumberM with his frock, without defence, 
Ah eafy frize, they led the prifoner thence. 
And, as commanded, brought before the prince. 
The gloomy fire, too fenfible of wrong. 
To vent his rage in words, reftrain'd his tongue. 
And only faid. Thus fervants are preferred. 
And, trufted, thus their fovereigns they reward. 
Had I not feen, had not thcfe eyes receivM 
Too clear a proof, I could not have believed. 

He paus'd, and choak'd tht reft. The youth, who faw 
His forfeit life abandoned to the law, 
The judge th' accufer, and th' offence to him 
Who had both power and will t' avenge the crime. 
No vain defence prepared ; but thus reply'd : 
The faults 'ofloVe by love are juftifyM : 
With unrefifted might the monarch reigns. 
He levels moiintains, and he raifes plains ; 
And, not regarding difference of degree, 
AbasM your daughter, and exalted me. 

This bold return with Teeming patience heard. 
The prifoner wa« remitted to the guard. 
The fullett' tyrant flept not all the night. 
But, lonely >«?8}k4ng by a winking light, 
fiobb'd; wept, and gfoanM, and beat his wither'd breaft. 
But would noVviohie his daughter's refl $ 
' Who 



SIGISMONDA AND GUlSCARDO. 225 



Who long expefting lay, for blifs prepared, 

Liftening for noife^ and grieved that none ihe heard 5 

Oft rofe, and oft in vain employd the key, 

And oft accus'd her lover of delay ; 

And pafsM the tedious hours in anxious thoughts away. 

The morrow came ; and at his ufual hour 
Old Tancred vifited his daughter's bower 5 
Her cheek (for fuch his cuftom was) he kifs'd. 
Then blefs'd her kneeling, and her maids difmifs'd. 
The royal dignity thus far maintained, 
Now left in private, he no longer feign'd 5 
But all at once his grief and rage appeared. 
And floods of t^ars ran trickling down his beard. 

O Sigifmonda, he began to fay : 
Thrice he began, and thrice was forc'*d to ftay. 
Till words with often trying found their way : 
I thought, O Sigifmonda, (but how blind 
Are parents' eyes, their children's faults to find I) 
Thy virtue, birth, and breeding, were above 
A mean defire, and vulgar fenfe of love *. 
Nor lefs than fight and hearing could convince 
So fond a father, and fo juft a prince. 
Of fuch an unforefcen and unbeliev'd offence. 
Then what indignant forrow muft I have. 
To fee thee lye fubjefted to ray flave I 
A man fo fmelling of the people's lee, 
The court recelv'd him firft for charity 5 
And (ince with no degree of honour grac'd, 
But only fuffer'd, where he firft was placed. 
Vol. IIL Q^ 



\ 



926 DRYDEN'S POEMS^ 

A groveling \n(e&. dill ; and fo defign^d 
By nature's hand, nor born of noble kind : 
A thing, by neither man nor woman priz'd. 
And fcarcely known enough to be dcfpis'd. 
To what has heaven refervM my age ? Ah I why- 
Should man, when nature calls, not chufe to die^ 
Rather than ftrctch the fpan of life, to find 
Such ills as fate has wifely caft behind, 
For thofe to feel, whom fond defire to live 
Makes covetous of more than life can give ! 
Each has his (hare of good ; and when 'tis gone*, 
The gueft, though hungry, cannot rife too foon^ 
But I, expc6ting more, in my own wrong 
Protra£ling life, have liv'd a day too long. 
If yefterday could be recalled ag?-in, 
E.v'n now would I conclude my happy reign j 
But 'tis too late, my glorious race is run. 
And a dark cloud o'ertakes^ my fetting fun. 
Had'ft thou not lovM, or loving fuvM the fhame^ 
If not the fin, by fome illuftrious name, 
This little comfort had reliev'd my mind, 
■•Twas frailty, not unuiual to thy kind ; 
But thy low fall beneath thy royal blood 
Shews downward appetite to mix with mud : 
Thus not the leaft excufe is left for thee, 
Nor the lead refuge for unhappy me. 

For him I have refolv'd : whom by £urprize 
I took, and fcarce can call it, in difguifej 
For fuch was his attire, as, with intent 
'Pf nature, fuitcd to his mean dcfcent : 



The 



I 



SIGTSMOi^DA AND GUISCARDO. ^^i 

The harder queftion yet remains behind. 
What pains a parent and a prince can find 
To puniAi sin offence of this degenerate kind. 

As I have lovM, and yet I love thee more 
Than ever father lovM a child before ; 
So that indulgence draws me to forgive : 
Nature, that gave thee life, would have thee live : 
But, as a public parent of the flate. 
My juftice, and thy crime, requires thy fate. 
Fain would I chufe a middle courfe to fteer ; 
Nature 's too kind, and juftice too fevere : 
Speak for us both, and to the balance bring 
On either fide the father and the king. 
Heaven knows, my heart is bent to favour thee 5 
Make it but fcanty weight, and leave the reft to mcu 

Here ftopping with a figh, he pour'd a flood 
Of tears, to make his laft exprefiion g:ood. 
She, who had heard him fpeak, nor faw alone 
The fecret condu6l of her love was known. 
But he was taken who her foul poflTefs'd, 
Felt all the pangs of forrow in her brealt : 
And little wanted, but a woman's heart, 
With cries and tears had tcftified her fmart. 
But inhoin worth, that fortune can coiitrol^ 
?4ew ftrung and ftiffer bent herfofter foul j 
The heroine affumM the woman's place, 
•Ccnfirnrd her mind, and fortifyM her face : 
Wliy ihould fhc beg, or what could ihe pretend. 
When her ftern falh;r bad condemned lier. friend f - 

Q^z Her 



^i« DR YD EN'S POEMS. . 

Her life fhe might have had ; but her defpair 

Of faving his, had put it paft her care j 

Kefolv'd on fate flie, would not lofe her breath. 

But, rather than not die, folicit death. 

Fix'd on this thought, flie, not as women ufe. 

Her fault by common frailty would excufe 5 

But boldly juftifyM her innocence^ 

And while the fa6l was own'd, deny'd tlf ofFtmce : 

Then with dry eyes, and with an open look, 

She met his glance mid -way, and thus undaunted 

fpoke, 
Tancred, 1 neither am difpos'd to make 
Requeft for life, nor offered life to take 5 
Much lefs deny the deed ; but leaft of all 
Beneath pretended juftice weakly fall. 
My words to facred truth fhall be confin'd, 
My deeds (hall (hew the greatnefs of my mind. 
That I have lov'd, I own ; that ftill I love^ 
I call to witncfs all the powers above : 
Yet more I own : to Guifcard's love I give 
The fmall remaining time I have to live ; 
And if beyond this life defire can be. 
Not fate itfelf fhall fet my pafTion free. 
This firft avow*d 5 nor folly warpM my mind. 
Nor the frail texture of the female kind 
Betrayed my virtue : for, too well I knew 
What honour was, and honour had his due a 
Before the holy prieft my vows were ty'd. 
So came I not a ibumpet, but a bride. 

T4u« 



\ 



SIGrsMONDA AMD GUISCARDO. Mf 

This for my fame, and for the public voice i 

Yet more, his merits juftify'd my choice ; 

Which had they not, the firft election thine. 

That bond dilTolvM, the next is freely mine $ 

Or grant I err'd, (which yet I muft deny) 

Had ptirents power ev'n fecond vows to tie, 

Thy little care to mend my widowM nights. 

Has forcM nie to recourfe of marriage rites. 

To fill an empty fide, and follow known delights. 

What have I done in this, dcferving blame ? 

State-laws may alter : nature's are the fame j 

Thofe are ufurp'd on helplefs woman -kind. 

Made without our confent, and wanting power to bind 

Thou, Tancred, better ftiouldft have underftood. 
That as thy father gave thee flcfh and blood. 
So gav'ft thou me : not from the quarry hcw'd. 
But of a fofter mould, with fenfe endued ; 
Ev'n fofter than thy own, of fuppler kind, 
More exquifite of tafte, and more than man refin'd. 
Nor need'fl: thou by thy daughter to be told. 
Though nosv thy fpritely blood with age be cold. 
Thou haft been young : and canft remember ftilJ, 
That '.v'lK'n thou hadft the power, thou hadft the will $ 
And from the paft experience of thy fires, 
Canft tell with what a tide our ftrong defircs 
Come rufhing on in youth, and what their rage re- 
quires. 

And grant thy youth was exercisM in arras. 
When love no Icifure found for fofter chaims* 

Q^ My 



I 

} 



fja DRYDEtJ'S POEMS. 

My tender, age in luxury was train'd, ^ 

With idle cafe and pageants entertained j > 

My hours my own, my pleafures unreftrainM, 3 

So bred, no wonder if I took the bent 

That feemM ev'n warranted by thy confent ; 

For, when the father is too fondly kind. 

Such feed he fows, fuch harveft fhall he find. 

Blame then thyfelf, as reafon's law requires, 

(Since nature gave, and thou foment'ft, my fires) ; 

If ftill thofe appetites continue ftrong, 

Thou may'ft confider I am yet but young : 

Confider too that, having been a wife, 

I muft have tafted of a better life 5 

And am not to be blam'd, if T renew 

By lawful means the joys which then I knew. 

Where was the crime, if pieafure I procured, 

Young, and a woman, and to blifs inur'd I 

That was my cafe, and this is my defence : 

I pkas'd myfelf, I fhunn'd incontinence, 

And, urgM by itiong defires, indulged my fcilfe. 

Left to myfelf, I muft avow, I ftrove 
From public fhaine, to fcreen my fecret love. 
And, well acquainted with thy native pride, 
Ende.ivoui'd what 1 could not help, to hide ; 
For which a woman's wit an eafy way fupply'd. 
How this, fo well contrivM, fo clofely laid. 
Was known to thee, or by what chance betray 'd, 
Is not my care j to pleafe thy pride alone, 
I could- have wiih'd it had been ftill unknown. 

Nor 



] 



I 



SIGISMONDA AND GUISCARDO. i^i 

Nor took I Guifcard by blind fancy led, 
"Or hafty choice, as many women wed ; 
But with deliberate care, and ripen'd thought. 
At leifure firft dengnM, before I wrought : 
On him I refted, after long debate, 
And, not without confidering, fix'd my fate : 
His flame was equal, though by mine infpirM 
(For fo the difference of our birth required) i 
Had he been born like me, like me his love 
Had firft begun, what mine was forced to move ; 
But thus beginning, thus we perfevere 5 
Our paflions yet continue what they were, 
Nor length of trial makes our joys the lefs fincere. 
At this my choice, though not by thine allowed 
(Thy judgment herding with the common crowd). 
Thou tak'ft unjuft offence 5 and, led by them, 
Doft lefs the merit, than the man efteem. 
Too fharply, Tancred, by thy pride betray'd. 
Haft thou againft the laws of kind inveigVd : 
For all th' offence is in opinion plac'd, 
Which deems high birth by lowly choice debased. 
This thought alone with fury fires thy breaft 
(For holy marriarre juftifies the reft), 
That I have funk the glories of the ftate, 
And mix\i my blood with a plebeian mate 5 
In which I wonder thou fhould*ft overfec 
Superior caufes, or impute to me 
The fault of fortune, or the fates' decree. 
Or call it heaven's imperial power alone, 
Wliich moves on fprings of juftice, though unknown. 

Qjt Vet 



I 



23* DRYDEN'S POEMS. 

Yet this we fee, though ordcr'd for the beff. 
The bad exalted, and the good opprefs'd ; 
Permitted laurels grace the lawlefs brow, 
Th' unworthy raised, the worthy caft below. 

But leaving that : fearch we the fecret fprings. 
And backward trace the principles of things 5 
There (hall we find, that when the world began » 
One common mafs composed the mould of man 5 
One pafte of flefti on all degrees beftow'd, 
And kneaded up alike with moiftening blood. 
The fame almighty power infpir'd the frame 
With kindled life, and form'd the fouls the fame j 
The faculties of intellcft and will -^ 

DifpensM with equal hand, difpos'd with equal fkill, V 
JLxke liberty indulgM with choice of good or ill : J 

Thus born alike, from virtue firft began 
The difference that diftingui/hM man from man : 
He claiy!i*d no title from defcent of blood, 
But that which made him noble made him good : 
AVarm'd with more particles of heavenly flanne, ^ 

He wing'd his upright flight, and foarM to fame ; > 
The reft remain'd below, a tribe without a name. A 

This law, though cuftom now diverts the courfe, 
' As nature^s inftitute, is yet in force ; 
Uncanceled, though difus'd; and he, whofe mind 
Is virtuous, is alone of noble kind ; 
Though poor in fortune, of celeftial race ; 
And he commits the crime who calls him bafe. 

Now lay the line ; and meafure all thy courts 
By inward virtuci not external port ; 

4 Anii 



SIGISMONDA AND GUISCARDO. xj^ 

And find whom jiiftly to prefer above 

The man on whom my judgment plac'd my love : 

So flialt thou fee his parts and perfon fliine ; 

And, thus compared, the reft a bafe degenerate line* 

Nor took I, when I firft furvey'd thy court, 

Kis valour, or his virtues, on report j 

But trufted what I ought to truft alone, 

Relying on thy eyes, and not my own 5 

Thy praife (and thine was then the public voice) 

Firft recommended Guifcard to my choice : 

Direfled thus by thee, I look'd, and found 

A man I thought deferving to be crown'd 5 

Firft by my father pointed to my fight. 

Nor lefs confpicuous by his native light j 

His mind, his mien, the features of his face. 

Excelling all the reft of human race : 

Thefe were thy thoughts, and thou could'ft judge aright^ 

Till intereft made a jaundrce in thy fight ; 

Or fliould 1 grant thou didft not rightly fee ; 

Then thou wert firft deceived, and I deceived by thee. 

But if thou ftialt alledge through pride of mind. 

Thy blood with one of bafe condition join'd, 

' Tis falfe ; for *tis not bafcnefs to be poor j 

His poverty augments thy crime the more j 

Upbraids thy juftice with the icarit regard 

Of worth i whom princes praife, they ftiould reward; 

Are thefe the kings entrufted by the crowd 

With wealth, to be difpensM for common good ? 

The people fweat not for their king's delight^ 

T' enri ch a pimp, or raifc a parafitc j 

Their* 



iS6 DRVDEN'S POEMS. 

Then of his tnifted itiifchiefs one he fent, 
And badeliim wit;h thefe words the gift prefent : 
Thy father fends thee this to cheer thy breaft, 
And glad thy fight with what thou lov'ft the bcftj 
As thou haft pleasM his eyes, and joy'd his mind, 
"With what he lov'd the moft of human-kind. 

Ere this the royal dame, who well had weigh'd 
The confequente of what her fire had faid, 
Fix'd on her fate, againft th' expefted hour, 
Procured the means to have it in her power j 
For this, (he had diftill'd with early care 
The juice of fimples friendly to defpair, 
A magazine of death ; and thus prepared, 
Secure to die, the fatal meflage heard : 
Then" fmird fevere j nor with a troubled look. 
Or trembling hand, the funeral prefent took : 
Ev'n kept her countenance, when the lid remov'd 
DifclosM the heart, unfortunately lov'd 5 
■She needed not be told, within whofe breaft 
It lodg'd ; the meflage had explained the reft. 
Or not amaz'd, or hiding her furprize. 
She fternly on the bearer fixM her eyes : 
» 'Then thus ; Tell Tancrcd, on his daughter's part, 
"The gold, though precious, equals not the heart : 
* "But he did well to give his beft ; and I, 
Who wifhM a worthier urn, forgive his poverty. 
At this fhe curbM a groan, that elfe had come. 
And, paufing, view'd the prefent in the tomb j 
Then, to the heart ador'd devoutly glew'd 
* Her lips, and, raifing it, her fpeech renewed : 

Evil 



SIGlSMONDA AND GUISCARDO. 1137 

Ev'n frtmi my day of birth, to ihis, the bound 

Of my unhappy being, I have found 

My father's care and tendernefs expreis'dj 

But this laft aft of love excels the reft s 1 ' 

For this fo dear a prefent, bear him back 

The beft return that I can live to make. 
The meflenger difpatchM, agafn fhc viewM 

The lovM remains, and fighing thus, purfued t 

Source of my life, and lord of my^defires, 

In whom I livM, with whom ray foul expires^ 

Poor heart, no more the fpring of vital heat, 
Curs'd be the hands that tore thee from thy feat ! 
The courfe is finiihM which thy fates decreed. 
And thou from thy corporeal prifon freed : 
Soon haft thou reach'd the goal with mended pace,. 
A world of woes difpatch'd in little fpace j * 
JorcM by thy worth, thy foe, in death become 
Thy friend, has lodg'd thee in a coftly tomb.. 
There yet remained thy funeral exequies. 
The weeping tribute of thy widow's eyes. 
And thofe, indulgent heaven has found the way 
That I, before ray death, have leave to pay. 
My father ev'n in cruelty is kind. 
Or heaven has turn'd the raalice of his mind 
To better ufes than his hate defign'd j 
And made th' infult, which in his gift appears. 
The means to mourn thee with my pious tears | 
Which I will pay thee down, before I go. 
And fave myfclf the pains to weep below, 

IF 



} 



] 



^it DRYDEN'S POEMS. 

If fouls oau weep ; though once I meant to meet 
My fate with face unmovM, and eyes imwet. 
Yet Hnce I h^ve thee here in narrow room» 
My tears (hall fet chce Bri afloat within thy tomb i 
Then (as I know thy fpirit hovers nigh) 
Under thy friendly condu6l will I fly 
To regions unezpkxrM, fecure to (hare 
Thy flatej nor hell ihall punifliment appear; 
And heaven is double heaven, if thou art there. 
She faid s her brimful eyes, that ready flood. 
And only \vanted will to keep a flood, 
ReleasM their watery ftore, and poured amain. 
Like clouds low hung, a fober fhower of rain j 
Mute folemn forrow, free from female noife. 
Such as the majefty of grief deftroys j 
For, bending o'er the cup, the tears fhe-flied 
:Seem'd by the pofture to difcharge her head, 
O'erfiird before (and oft her mouth apply'd 
To the cold heart) ; flie kifs'd at once, and cry''d. 
Her maids, who flood amaz'd, nor knew the caufe 
Of her complaining, nor whofe heart it was ; 
Yet all due mcafures of her mourning kept, 
J)id office at the dirge, and by infieilion wept 5 
^nd oft enquired th* occafion of htr grief 
^Unanfwer'd but by ffghs), and offerM vain relief. 
At length, her flock of tears already llied, 
She wip'd her eyes, ihe rais'd her drooping head. 
And thus purfued ; G ever faithful heart, 
I have perfoj;m'd the ceremonial part. 

The 



SIGISMONDA AND GUISCAI^DO. %^^ 

The decencies of grief j it refts behind. 
That, as our bodies were, our fouls be joinM | 
To thy whatever abode, my ihade convey. 
And, as an elder ghoft, dire6^ the way. 
She faid ; and bade the vial to be brought. 
Where (he before had brewM the deadly draught t 
Firft pouring out the med'cinabic bane. 
The heart, her tears had rinsM, (he bath'd again j- 
Then down her throat the death fepurely throws. 
And quaffs a long oblivion of her woes. 

This done, fhe mounts the genial bed, and thert? 
(Her body firft composed with honeft care) 
Attends the welcome reft ; her hands yet hold 
Clofe to her heart the monumental gold ; 
Nor farther word ftie fpoke, but clos'd her (ight^ 
And quiet fought the covert of the night.- 
The damfcls, who the while in filence-mourn'd,. 
Not knowing, nor fufpefting death fuborn'd. 
Yet, as their duty was, to Tancred fent ; 
Who, confcious of th' occafion, fear'd th' event*. 
Alarm'd, and with prefaging heart, he came. 
And drew the curtains, and exposed the darac 
To loathfome light : then with a late relief • » 

Made vain efforts, to mitigate her grief. 
She, what fhe could, excluding day, her eyc»- » 

Kept firmly feaPd, arid fternly thus replies: 
Tancred, reftrain thy tears, unfought by mc^ 
And fcrrow unavailing now to thee ; 
Did ever man before affli6l his mind. 
To fee th' effea of what himfelf defign'd ? 

Ycr^ 



j^ DRYDEN'S POEMS. 

Yet, if thou haft remaliiing in thy heart 
Some fcnfeof love, fome unextinguifliM part 
Of former kindnefs, largely once profefs'd, 
Xct me by that adjure thy hardenM breaft. 
Not to deny thy daughter's laft requeft : 
The fecret love which I fo long enjoy'd. 
And ftill conceal'd to gratify thy pride. 
Thou haft disjoinM ; but, with ray dying breath. 
Seek not, I beg thee, to disjoin our death ; 
Where'er his corpfe by thy command is laid. 
Thither let mine in public be convey'd \ 
Exposed in open view, and fide by fide. 
Acknowledged as a bridegroom and a bride. 

The prince's anguifti hinder'd his reply : 
And ftie, who felt her fate approaching nigh, 
Seiz'd the cold Jjeart, and, heaving to her breaft. 
Here, precious pledge, ftie faid, fecurely reft ! 
Thefe accents were her laft 5 the creeping death 
Benumb'd her fenfes firft, then ftopp'd her breath. 

Thus ftie for dilbbedience juftly dy'd : 
The fire was juftly punifti'd for his pride : 
The youth, leaft guilty, fuffer'd for th' oft*ence. 
Of duty violated to his prince j 
Who, late repenting of his cruel deed, 
One common fepulchre for both decreed ; 
Jntoihb'd the wretched pair in royal ftatc. 
And on their monument infcrib'd their fate. 



\ 



THS' 



THEODORE 

AND 

H O N O R I A. 



O' 



\ F all the cities in Romanian lands, 
The chief, and moft renown'd, Ravenna (lands, 
Adorned in ancient times with arms and arts. 
And rich inhabitants, with generous hearts. 
But Theodore the brave, above the reft. 
With gifts of fortune and of nature blefsM, 
V The foremoft place for wealth and honour held, 
^ And all in feats of chivalry excell'd. 

This noble youth to madnefs lov'd a dame 
Of high degree, Honoria was her name 5 
Fair as the faireft, but of haughty mind. 
And fiercer than became fo foft a kind. 
Proud of her birth (for equal fhe had none) j 
The reft fhe fcorn'd ; but hated him alone. 
His gifts, his conftant courtfliip, nothing gainM | 
For flie, the more he lov'd, the more difdain'd. 
He liv'd with all the pomp he could devife. 
At tilts and-toumaments obtain^'d the prize; 
But found no favour in his lady's eye* i 
Relentlefs as a rock, the lofty maid, 
Tum'd all to poifon, that he did or iaid : 
Nor prayers, nor tears, nor ofFer'cHrows, could move 5 
The work went backward ; and the more he ftrove 
T' advance bis fuit, the farther from her love. 

Vol. III. R Wctry'i 



\ 



»4* DRYDEN'S. POEMS. 

Weary'd at length, and wanting remedy. 
He doubted oft, and oft reiblvM to d\c. 
But pride ftood ready to prevent the blow. 
For who would die to giatify a fpe ? 
His generous mind difdaln'd fo mean a fate ; 
That pafsM* his next endeavour was to hate. 
But vainer that relief than all the reft, 
The lefs he hopM, with more dedre poffefs'd.j 
Love ftood the fiegc, and would not yield his breaft. 
ChangS was the next, but change deceived his care j 
He fought a fairer, but found none fo fair. 
He would have worn her out by ftow degrees. 
As men by fafting ftarve th"* untamM difeafe : 
But prefent love required a prefent eafe. 
Looking he feeds alone his famifh'd eyes. 
Feeds lingering death, but looking not he dies. 
Yet ft ill he chofe the longeft way to fate. 
Wafting at once his life and his eftate. 

His friends beheld, and pity'd him in vain^ 
For what advice can eafe a lover's pain ! 
Abfence, the beft expedient thpy could find. 
Might fave the fortune, if not cpre the mind : 
This means they long proposed, but little gainM;^ 
Yet, after much purfuit, at length obtain^. 

Hard you may think it was to give confent^ 
But ftruggling with his own defires he went, 
With large expence, and with a pompout train, 
Pi-ovided as to viftt France and Spain, 
Or ipr fome diftant voyage o^er the main* 

But 



I 



THEODOUE AMD HDNORIA. 24$ 

But love had clippM his wings, and cut him (hort» 
Confined within the purlieus of the court, 
'rtiree miles he went, nor farther could retreat^ 
H)s travels ended at his country-feat : 
T\> Chaflis* pleaHng plains he took his way. 
There pitchM his tents, and there refoIvM to ftay. 

The fpring was in the prime j the neighbouring grore 
SupplyM with birds, the chohrifters of love : 
Mufic unbought, that minifter^d delight 
To morning walks, and luUM his cares by nighA 
There he difchargM his friends ; but not th^ expence 
Of frequent treats, and proud magnificence. 
He livM as kings retire, though more at large 
From public bufmefs, yet with equal charge j 
With houfe and heart ftill open to receive 5 
As well content as fove would give him leave 1 
He would have liv'd more free 5 but many a gueft. 
Who could forfake the friend, purfued the feaft. 

It hapt one morning, as his fancy led. 
Before his uiual hour he left his bed ; 
To walk within a lonely lawn, that ftood 
0*1 every fide furrounded by a wood : 
AUne he walkM, to pleafe hts penfive mind. 
And fought the deepeft folitttde to find 5 
'Twas in a: grove of fpreadin^ pines he ftray'd ; 
The winds within the quivering branches play^dy 
And dancing trees a mournful mufic made. 
The place itfelf was fuiting to his care, 
Uncouth and favage, as the cruel fair. . 

R 2 Hk 



^44 DRYDEN^S POEMS. 

He wanderM on, unknowing where be went» 
Loft in the wood, and all on love intent : 
The day already half his race had run. 
And fummon'd him to due repall at noon, 
But love could feel no hunger but his own. 

Whild Hilening to the murmuring leaves he ftood» 
More than a mile immersM within the wood. 
At once the wind was laid ; the whifpering found 
Was dumb ; a rifmg earthquake rock'd the ground | 
With dibper brown the grove was overfpreadj 
A fudden horror feiz'd his giddy head, 
And his ears tinkled, and his colour fled, 
Nature was in aiaj-m j fome danger nigh 
SeemM thrcritenM, though unfeen to mortal eye, 
UnusM to fear, he fummonM all his foul, 
And ftood collefted in himfelf, and whole j 
Not long : for foon a whirlwind rofe around. 
And from afar he heard a fcreaming found, 
As of a dame diftrefs'd, who cry'd for aid. 
And fiird with loud laments the fecret ihade. 

A thicket clofe befide the grove there ftood, 
With briers and brambles choak'd, and dwarfifh woodj 
From thence the noife, which now, approaching near> 
With more diftinguiihM notes invades his ear j 
He raisM his head, and faw a beauteous maid. 
With hair diflievePd, iffuing through the (hade j 
Stripped of her cloaths, and ev'n thofe parts reveal'd. 
Which modeft nature keeps from fight conceaKd. 
Her face, her hands, her naked limbs were torn. 
With pafung through the brakes, and prickly thorn | 
,^7 Tw© 



THEODOkt ANt) HONdKlA. '^s 

Two maftiffs gaunt and grim her flight purftied. 
And oft their faften'd fangs in blood cmbnied ; 
Oft they came up, and pinch'd her tender fide, 
Merqr, O mercy, heaven ! fhe ran, and cry*d 5 
When heaven was nam'd, they loosed their hold again^ 
Then fprang fhe forth, they followM her amain. 

Not far behind, a knight of fwarthy face, 
High on a coal-black fteed purfued the chace ; 
With flafhing flames his ardent eyes were fiU'd, 
And in his hand a naked fword he held : 
He chear'd the dogs to follow her who fled. 
And vowM revenge on her devoted head. 

As Theodore was born of noble kind. 
The brutal a6lIon rousM his manly mind ; 
MovM with unworthy ufage of the maid, 
He, though unarmM, refolv'd to give her aid. 
A faplin pine he wrench 'd from out the grounJ, 
The readied weapon that his fuiy found. 
Thus furnlfli'd for offence, he crofsM the way 
Betwixt the gracelels villain and his prey. 

The knight came thundering on, but, from afar. 
Thus in imperious tone forbad the war : 
Ceafe, Theodore, to proffer vain relief. 
Nor ftop the vengeance of fo juft a grief 5 
But give nie leave to feize my deftinM prey. 
And let eternal juftice take the way : 
I but revenge my fate, difdain'd, betrayM, 
And fufFering death for this ungrateful maid. 

He faid, at once difmounting from the fteed j 
For now the hell-hounds with fuperior fpeed 

K 3 Kad 



24^ 9RYDEK'S P€)£MSw 

Had reichM the dane, and, faftening on her fide,. 
The gpround with iffuing ftreams of purple dy'd^ 
Stood Theodore furpriz'd in deadly fright. 
With chattering teeth, and briftling hair upright |: 
Yet armM with inborn worth, Whate'er» faid he^ 
Thou art, who know'ft me better than I thee j. 
Or prove thy rightful caufe, or be defy*d j 
The fpeflre, fiercely ftaring, thus replyM t 

Know, Theodore, thy anceftry I claim. 
And Guido Cnvalcanti was my name. 
One common (ire our fathers did beget,- 
My name and ftory fome remember yet : 
Thee, then a boy, within my arms I laid. 
When for my fins I lov'd this haughty, maid'; 
Not lefs ador'd in life, nor feiT'd by me, 
Thm proud Honoria now is lovM by thee. 
What did I not her ftubborn heart to gain ? 
But all my vows were anfvverM with difdain : 
She fcornM my forrows, and defpisM my pain. 
Long time I dragged my days in fruitlefs care $ 
Then, loathing life, and plung'd in deep defpair^ 
To finifli my unhappy life, I fell 
On this (harp fword, and now am damnM in hell^ 

Short was her joy ; for foon th' infulting maid 
By heaven^s decree in this cold grave was laid. 
And as in unrepented fin (he dyM, 
DoomM to the fame bad place is puni(hM for her pridrt 
Becaufe (he deemM I well defervM to die, 
And made a merit of her cruelty. 

7 Thej:f^ 



THEODORE AiiD HONORIA. %^7 
There, then, we met 5 i>6th try'd, and boUi ^ere caft, 
And this irrevocable fentence pafsM ; 
That (he, whom I fo long purfued in vain, 
Should fufFer from my hands a lingering pain 1 
RenewM to life that flie might daily die, 
I daily doomM to follow, (he to fly } 
No more a lover, but a mortal foe, 
I feeic her life (for love is none below) : 
As often as my dogs with better fpeed 
Arreft her flight, is (he to death decreed : 
Then with this fatal fword, on which I dy'd, 
I pierce her open back, or tender fide. 
And tear that hardened heart from out her brea(l. 
Which, with her entrails, makes my hungry hounds a 

feaft. 
Nor lies (he long, but, as her fates ordain, 
Springs up to life, and fre(h to fecond pain. 
Is fav\l to-day, to-morrow to be flain. 

This, versM in death, th' infernal knight relates^ 
And then for proof fuKiU'd the common fates $ 
Her heart and bowels through her back he di^ew. 
And fed the hounds that help'd him to purfue. 
Stern lookM the (icnd, as fruftrate of his will. 
Not half fuffic'd, and greedy yet to kill. 
And nov the foul, expiring through the wound> 
Had left the body breathlefs on the ground, 
When thus the grifly fpe6lre fpoke again : 
Behold the fruit of ill-rewarded pain : 
As many months as I fuftainM her hate. 
So many years is (he condemn'd by fatt 

R4 T# 



»^» DRYDEN'S POEMS. 

To daily death i and erery feveral place,. 
Confcious of her difdain and my difgrace, 
Muft witnefs her juft punifliment j and be 
A fcene of triumph and revenge to mc I 
As in this grove I took my laft farewel. 
As on this very fpot of earth I fell. 
As Friday faw me die, fo (he my prey 
Becomes ev'n here, on this revolving day. 

Thus while he fpoke, the virgin from the ground 
Upftarted frefli, already clos'd the wound. 
And, unconcern'd for all (he felt before. 
Precipitates her flight along the fliore t 
The hell-hounds, as ungor^'d with fte(h and blood,. 
Purfue their prey, and feek their wonted food : 
The fiend remounts his courfer, mends his pace | 
And all the vifion vani(hM from the place. 

Long ftood the noble youth opprefs'd with awe 
And ftupid at the wondrous things he faw, 
SurpafTmg common faith, tranfgrefltng nature's law t 
He would have been afleep, and wi(hM to wake. 
But dreams, he knew, no long impreflion make,. 
Though (trong at firftj if vifion, to what end. 
But fuch as muft his future ftate portend ? 
His love the damfel, and himfelf the fiend. 
But yet, refle^ling that it could not be 
From heaven, which cannot impious a£l8 decree^ 
RefolvM within himfelf to (hun the fnare, 
Which hell for his deftruftion did prepare j 
And, as his better genius (hould dire6V, 
From an ill cauie to draw 9 good efie6l. 

Infpir'i 



THtdtfOTliE AWD HONOR I A. 14^ 

Tnfpir'd from heaven he homeward took his way. 
Nor paird hk new defign with long delay : 
But of his train a trufty fervant fent 
To call his friends together at his tent. 
They came, and, ufual falotations paid. 
With words premeditated thus he faid : 
What you have often counfePd, to remove 
My vain purfuit of unregarded love j 
By thrift my {inking fortune to repair. 
Though late yet is at laft become my care ? 
My heart (hall be my own j my vaft expence 
Reduced to bounds, by timely providence j 
This only I require ; invite for me 
Honoria, with her father's family. 
Her friends, and mine 5 the caofe I fhall dlfplay. 
On Friday next 5 for that 's th* appointed day. 
Well pleas'd were all his friends, the taflc was lighl^ 
The father, mother, daughter, they invite j 
Hardly the dame' was drawn to this repaftj 
But yet refolv'd, becaufe it was the laft. 
The day was come, the guefts invited came,. 
And, with the reft, th' inexorable dame : 
A feaft prepared with riotous expence. 
Much coft, more care, and moft magnificence* 
The place ordainM was in that haunted grove. 
Where the revenging ghoft purfued his love ; 
The tables in a proud pavilion fpread. 
With flowers below, and tiffiie overhead s 

|L The reft in rank, Honoria chief in place, 

^■|Vas artfully contrived to fet her face 
^0 front the thicket, and behold the chacc* 

J 



\ 



,»50 DRYDEN^S POEMS*: 

The feaft was ferv'd, the time (6 weU foracaf^. 
That juft when the defert and fniits weref4ac^d. 
The fiend^s alarm began ; the hollow found 
Sung in the leaves, the foreft (hook around^ 
Air blackenMy roll'd the thunder, groanM the ground. 

Nor long before the lou.l laments arife. 
Of one diftrefsM, and madiffs mingled cries ; 
And Hrft the dame came ru(hing through the wood. 
And next the famiih'd hounds that fought their food. 
And gripM her flanks, and oft effay'd their jaws in 

blood. 

Laft came the felon, on his fable fteed, 
AimM with his naked fword, and urgM his dogs to 

fpeed. 
She ran, and cryM, her flight direftly bent 
(A gueft unbidden) to the fatal tent, 
The fcene of death, and place ordain^ for punifliment. 
Loud was the nolfe, ao;haft was every gueft. 
The women ihriek'd, the men forfook the feaft ; 
The hounds at nearer diftance hoarfely bay'd $ 
The hunter, clofe purfued the vifionary maid, 
Sher<!nt the heaven with loud laments, imploring aid. 

The gallants, to proteft the lady's right. 
Their faucliions brandifh'd at the grifly fpright ; 
H gh on his ttirrups he provoked the fight. 
Then on the crowd he caft a furious look/ 
And withered all their ftrength before he fpoke % 
Back on your, lives j let be, faid he, my prey. 
And let my vengeance take the deftin'd way : 
▼ain arc your arms, and vainer your defence, 
Againft th' etejrnal doom of Providence s 

Min« 



I 



THEODORE AND HOKTORIA. 251 

A^ine is th' ungrateful maid by Iieaven defign'd : 
Mercy (he would not give, nor mercy IhaU (he find. 
.At this the former tale again he told 
With thmideringtone, and dreadful to behold: 
,Sunic were their hearts with horror of the crime> 
Nor needed to be warn'd a fecond time, 
But bore each other back : fome knew the face. 
And all had heard the much-lamented cafe 
Of him who fell for love, and this the fatal place» 

And now tV infernal minifter advanced, 
Seiz'd the due viflim, and with fury launchM 
Her back, and, piercing through her inmoft hearty. 
Drew backward as before th' offending part.. 
The reeking entrails next he tore away. 
And to \M meagre maftiffs made a prey. 
The pale afliftants on each other ftar'd, 
With gaping mouths for iffuing words prepared j 
The ftill-born founds upon the palate hung> 
And dy'd imperfeft on the faultering tongue. 
The fright was general ; but the fentale band 
(A hclpiefs train) in more confufion ftand : 
With horror fhiiddering, on a heap they run>. 
Sick at the fight of hateful juftice done j 
For conicience rung th' alarm, and made the cafe their 
ow». 

So, fpread upon a lake with upward eye, 
A plump of fowl behold their foe on high ; 
They clofe their trembling troop ; and all attend 
On whom the fowiing eagle will defcend* 

But 



} 



^ts^ DRYDEN'S POEMS. 

But moft the proud Honoria fearM th' event* 
And thought to her alone the vifion fent. 
Her guilt prefents to her diftrafted mind 
Heaven's juilice, Theodore's revengeful kind. 
And the lame fate to the lame fin affigiiM. 
Already fees herfelf the monfter's prey, 
'And feels her heart and entrails torn away. 
*Twas a mute fcene of forrow, mixM with fear ; 
Still on the table lay th' unfinifti'd cheer : 
The knight and hungry maftiffs ftood around, 
The mangled dame lay breathlefs on the ground 5 
When on a fudden, re-infpirM with breath. 
Again (he rofe, again to fuffer death j 
Nor ftaid the hell-hounds, nor the hunter flaid» 
But followed, as before, the flying maid : 
Th' avenger took from earth th' avenging fword. 
And mounting light as air his fable ftecd he fpurr'd t 
The clouds difpeird, the (ky refunfd her light. 
And nature ftood recovered of her fright. 
But fear, the laft of ills, remain'd behind. 
And horror heavy fat on every mind. 
Nor Theodore encourag'd more the feaft. 
But fternly look'd, as hatching in his brcaft 
Some deep dcfigns j which when Honoria viewed. 
The frefli impulfe her former fright renew'd 5 
She thought herfelf the trembling dame who fled. 
And him the gi illy ghoft that fpurr'd th' infernal ftecJ : 
The more difmay'd, for when the guefts withdrew, \ 
Their courteous hoft, fainting all the crew, > 

Kegardlefs pafsM her o^er 3 nor grac d with kind adieu $ J 

That 



I 

i 



THEODORE and HONORIA. 25) 

That fting infixM .within her haughty mind. 
The downfall of her enipire (he divin'd ; 
And her proud heart with fccret forrow pin'd. 
Home as they went, the fad difcourfe renew'dy 
Of the relentlefsdame to death purfued, 
And of the fight obfccne fo lately vPewM. 
None durft arraigrf the righteous doom (he bore, 
Ev'n they who pity*d mo(l, yet blam'd her more : 
The parallel they needed not to name, 
But in the dead they damnM the living dame. 

At every little noife (he looked behind, 
For ftill the knight was prefent to her mind t 
And anxious oft (he ibrted on the way, 
And thought the horfeman-ghoft came thundering for 

his prey. 
RetiirnM, (he took her bed with little re(l. 
But in (hort (lumbers dreamt the funeral fead t 
Awak'd, (he turn'd her (ide, and (lept again | ^ 

The fame black vapours mounted in her brain, f 

And the fame dreams return^ with double pain. ^ 

Now forc'd to wake, becaufe afraid to deep, 
Her blood all feverM, with a furious leap 
She fprang from bed, diftra6led in her mind, 
And fearM, at every ftep, a twitching fpright behind. . 
Darkling and defperate, with a daggering pace. 
Of death afraid, and cpnfcious of difgrace i 
Fear, pride, remorfe, at once her heart zST^Wd, 
Pride put remorfe to flight, but fear prevaird. 
Friday, the fatal day, when next it came. 
Her foul forethought the fiend would change his ^me, > 

Anil' 



asS DRYDEN'S POEMS. 

His foul belyM the features of his face $ 

Beauty was there, but beauty in difgrace. 

A clownifh mien, a voice with ruftic found. 

And ftupid eyes that ever lov'd the ground. 

He lookM like nature's error, as the mind 

And body were not of a piece deiign'd, 

But made for two, and by miftake in one were joln'd. 

The rulii^ rod, the father's forming care. 
Were exercisd in Vain on wit's dcfpair ; 
Tlie mofe informed, the Icfs he underftood. 
And deeper funk by floundering in the mud. 
Now fcorn'd of all, and grown the public fliarae. 
The people from GaleAis chang'd his name. 
And Cymon calTd, which fignifies a brute j 
So well his name d'd with his nature fuit. 

His father, when he found his labour loft. 
And care employed that anfwer'd not the coft, 
Chofe an ungrateful obje6l to remove. 
And loath'd to fee what nature made him love; 
So to his country farm the fuol confin'd ; 
Rude work well fuited with a ruftic mind. 
Thus to the wilds the fturdy Cymon went, 
A fquire among thefwains, and pleas'd with banifliment 
His corn and cattle were his only care. 
And his fupreme delight, a country fair. 

It happen'd on a fummer's holiday, 
That to the green-wood fliade he took his way ; 
For Cymon ihunn'd the church, and us'd not much 
to pray. 

Hi« 



I 



1 



CYMON AND IPHIGENIA. %sf 

His quarter- ftafF, which he could ne'er fbrfake, 
Hung half before, and half behind his back. 
He trudg'd along, unknowing what he fought^ 
And whiftlcd as he went for want of thought. 

By chance conducted, or by thirft conftrain'd^ 
The deep recefles of the grove he gainM 5 
Where, in a plain defended by the wood, 
Crept through the matted grafs a cryftal iIooxI> 
By which an alahafter fountain ftood : 
And on the margin of the fount was laid 
(Attended by her flaves) a Sleeping maid. 
Like Dian and her nymphs, when, tirM with fJ>ort, 
To rert by cool Eurotas they refort : 
The dame herfelf the goddcfs well exprefsM, 
Not more diftinguIfhM by her purple veft. 
Than by the charming features of her face. 
And ev'n in flumber a fuperior grace : 
Her comely limbs composM with decent care. 
Her body fhaded with a flight cymarr ; 
Her bofom to the view was only bare : 
Where two beginning paps were fcarcely ipy'd. 
For yet their places were but fignifyM : 
The fanning wind upon her bofom blows. 
To meet the fanning wind the bofom rofe 5 
The fanning wind, and pvrling ftreams, continue her 
repofe. 

The fool of nature ftood with ftupid eyes. 
And gaping mouth that teftifyM fui*prize, 
Fix'd on her face, nor could remove his fight. 
New as he was to love^ and novice to delight ? 

S 2 Long 



I 



1 



!«• DR YD EN'S POEM'S. 

Long mute he ftood, and leaning on his ftafF, 

His wonder witnefs'd with an idiot laugh 5 

Then would have fpoke, but by his glimmering fenfe? 

Firft found his want of words, and fear'd offence ; 

Doubted for what he was he ihould be known, 

By his clown accent, and his country tone. 

Through the rude chaos thus the running light 

Shot the firft ray that pierc'd the native night : 

Then day and darknefs in the mafs were mix'd. 

Till gathered in a globe the beams were fix'd : 

Laft (hone the fun, who, radiant in his fphere, 

Illumin'd heaven and earth, and rolTd around the year.. 

So reafon in this brutal foul began, 

Love made him firft fufpe6t he was a man ; 

Love made him doubt his broad barbarian found j 

By love his want of words and wit he found ; 

That fenfe of want prepared the future way 

To knowledge, and difclos'd the promife of a day. 

What not his father's care, nor tutor's art. 
Could plant with pains in his unpolifli'd heart,^ 
The beft inftruftor, love, at once infpir'd, 
As barren grounds to fruitfulnefs are fir'd : 
Love taught him fliame ; and fhame, with love at ftrife,, 
Soon taught the fwcet civilities of life ; 
His grofs material foul at once could find 
Somewhat in her excelling all her kind : 
Exciting a defire till then unknown. 
Somewhat unfound, or found in her alone. 
This made the firft impreflion on his mind. 
Above, but juft above, the brutal kind. 

4 Fm* 



} 



rVMpN AND IPHIGENIA. %6t 

Tor beafts can like, but not diftinguifh too. 

Nor their own likijdg by refleftion know 5 

N^r why they like or this or t' other fac«, 

Oi- judge of this or that peculiar grace ^ 

Bat love in grofs, and ftupidly admire : 

As flies, allur'd by light, approach the fire. 

Thus ourxman-beaft, advancing by degrees, 

Firft likes the whole, then feparates what he fees 5 

On feveral parts afeveral praife beftows, 

The ruby lips, the well -proportioned nofc, 

The fnowy (kin, and raven-glofly hair. 

The dimpled cheek, and forehead rifing fair. 

And, ev'n in fleep itfelf, a fmiling air. 

From thence his eyes defcending viewM the reft. 

Her plump round arms, white hands, and heaving breaft. 

Long on the laft he dwelt, though every part 

A pointed arrow fped to pierce his heart. 

Thus in a trice a judge of beauty grown, 
(A judge erefted from a country clown) 
He long'd to fee her eyes, in flumber hid. 
And wiHi'd his own could pierce within the lid : 
He would have wak'd her, but reftrai.n'd his thought. 
And 'love new-born the firft good-manners taught- 
And awful fear his ardent wifh withftood. 
Nor durft difturb the godd^fsof the wood. 
For fuch Ihe feem'd by her celeftral face. 
Excelling all the reft of human race. 
And things dtvine, by common fenfe he knew, 
Muft be devoutly feen, at diftant view i 

S 3 Se 



a6» DRYDEN^S POEMS. 

So checking his defire, with trembling heart 
Gazing he flood, nor would nor could depart f 
Fix*d as a pilgrim wilder'd in his way. 
Who dares not ftir by night, for fear to ftray. 
But ftands with awful eyes to watch the dawn of day. 

At length awaking, Iphigcne the fair 
{So was the beauty cail'd who caus'd his care) 
Unclos'd her eyes, and double day reveal'd, 
While thofe of all her flaves in fleep were fealM. 

The Havering cudden, propped upon his dafF, 
Stood ready gaping with a grinning laugh. 
To welcome her awake ; nor durft begin 
To fpeak, but wifely kept the fool within. 
Then fhe ; What makes you, Cymon, here alone f 
{For Cymon' s name was round the country known 
Becaiife defcended of a noble race. 
And for a (oul ill forted with his face.) 

But ftill the fot ftood iilent with furprize. 
With fixM regard on her new-open'd eyes. 
And in his bread receiv'd th* invenom'd dart, 
A tickling pain that pleas'd amid the fmart. 
But, confcious of her form, with quick diftrud 
She faw his fparkling eyes, and fear'd his brutal luft s 
This to prevent, (he wakM her fleepy crew. 
And, rifing hafty, took a Ihort adieu. 

•Then Cymon firft his ruftic voice eflay'd. 
With profFer'd fervice to the parting maid 
To fee her fafe ; bis hand (he long deny'd. 
But took at length, aihamM of fuch a guide. 

4 « 



J 



I 



CYMON AND IPHIGENIA. 263 

So Cymon led her home, and leaving there. 
No more would to his country clowns repair. 
But fought his father's houfe, with better mind, 
Refufmg in the farm to be confinM. 

The father wonder'd at the fon's return. 
And knew not whether to rejoice or mourn j 
But doubtfully receivM, cxpefling ftill 
To learn the fecret caufes of his alter'd will. 
Nor was he long delay'd ; the firft requeft 
He made, was like his brothers to be drefs'd, 
And, as his birth required, above the reft. 

With eafe his fuit was granted by his lire, 
Diftinguilhing his heir by rich attire; 
His body thus adorn'd, he next defignM 
With liberal arts to cultivate his mind : 
He fought a tutor of his own accord, 
And ftudyM leflbns he befors abhorr'd. 

Thus the man-child advanced, and learnM fo faft. 
That in fhort time his equals he furpafsM : 
His brutal manners from his breaft exilM, 
His mien he fafhionM, and his tongue he BVd i 
In every exercife of all admir'd. 
He feem'd, nor only feem'd, but was infpir'd 1 
InfpirM by love, whofe bufinefs is to pleafe j 
He rode, he fenced, he movM with graceful eaie. 
More fam'd for fenfe, for courtly carriage more. 
Than for his brutal folly known before. 

What then of altered Cymon (hall we fay, 
But that the fire which choakM in aihes lay, 

S 4 A loa4 



a«4 DRYDEN'S POEMS. 

A load too heavy for his foul to move. 

Was upward blown below, and brufliM away by love. 

Love made an aftive progrefs through his mind. 

The duflcy parts he cleared, the grofs refin'd. 

The drowfy wak^d ; and as he went imprefs'd 

The Maker's image on the human bread. 

Thus yras the man amended by defire. 

And though he lov'd perhaps with too much fire. 

His father all his faults with reafon fcannM, 

And lik'd an error of the better hand j 

Excused th"" excefs of paflfion in his mind. 

By flames too fierce, perhaps too much refin'd : 

So Cymon, fmce his fire indulgM his will, 

Impetuous lovM, and would be Cymon (Hll ; 

Galefus he difown'd, and chofe to bear 

The name of fool confirmed, and blihopM by the fair. 

To Cipfeus by his friends his fuit he movM, 
Cipfeus the father of the fair he lov'd : 
But he was pre-engag'd by former ties, 
While Cymon was endeavouring to be wife : 
And Iphigene, oblig'd by former vows, 
Had given her faith to wed a foreign fpoufe : 
Her fire and (he to Rhodian Pafimond, 
Though both repenting, were by promife bound. 
Nor could retra6l ; and thus, as fate decreed, 
Though better lov'd, he fpoke too late to fpeed. 

The doom was paft, the fliip already fent 
Did all his tardy diligence prevent : 
SighM to herfelf the fair unhappy maid. 
While ftormy Cymon thus in fecret faid s 

The 



CYMON AND IPHIGENIA. aBJ 

The time is come for Iphigene to find 

The miracle flie wrought upon my mind : 

Her charms have made me man, her ravifliM love 

In rank fliali place m^ with the blcfs'd above. 

For mine by love, by force fhe (hall be mine. 

Or death, if force fhould fail, fhall finifh my deHgn. 

RefolvM he faid ; and riggM with fpeedy care 

A vefTel ftrong, and well equipp'd for war. 

The fecret fliip with chofen friends he ftor'd 5 

And, bent to die or conquer, went aboard. 

Ambufli'd he lay behind the Cyprian fhore. 

Waiting the fail that all his wifties bore 5 

Nor long expefted, for the following tide 

Sent out the hoftile (hip and beauteous bride. 

To Rhodes the rival bark direflly fteer'd. 
When Cymon fudden at her back appeared. 
And ftopp\l her flight : then, ftanding on his prow. 
In haughty terms he thus defyM the foe ; 
Or ftrike your fails at furamons, or prepare 
To prove the laft extremities of war. 
Tlius warnM, the Rhodians for the fight provide 5 
Already were the veffels fide by fide, 
Thefe obftinate to fave, and thofe to feizc the bride. 
But Cymon foon his crooked grapples caft, 
Which with tenacious hold his foes embraced, 
And, arm'd with fword and fiiield, amid the preft 

he pafs'd. 

Fierce was the fight, but, haftening to his prey, 
By force the furious lover freed his way ; 

Himfelf 



! 



»66 DR YD EN'S POEMS. 

Himfelf alone difpers'd the Rhodian crew. 
The weak difdain'd, the valiant overthrew j 
Cheap cont^ueft for his following friends remain'd. 
He reaped, the field, and they but only glean'd. 

His viftory confefs'd, the foes retreat, 
And caft the weapons at the vigor's feet. 
Whom thus he chear'd : O Rhodian youth, I fought 
For love alone, nor other booty fought : 
Your lives are fafe ; your veflel I refign 5 
Yours be your own, reftoring what is mine : 
In Iphigene I claim my rightful due, 
Robb'd by my rival, and detained by you 1 
Your Pafimond a lawlefs bargain drove, 
The parent could not fell the daughter's love j 
Or, if he could, my love difdains the laws, ~ 
And like a king by conqueft gains his caufe : 
Where arms take place, all other pleas are vain, 
Xove taught me force, and force (hall love maintain. 
You, what by ftrenglh you could not keep, releafe. 
And at an eafy ranfom buy your peace. 

Fear on the conquerM fide foon fignM th^ accord. 
And Iphigene to Cymon was reftor'd : 
While to his arms the blufhing bride he took j 
To feeming fadnefs fhe composed her look 5 
As if by force fubje6ted to his will. 
Though ple^s'd, diflfembling, and a woman ftill. 
And, for fhe wept, he wipM her falling tears. 
And pray'd her to difmifs her empty fears 5 
For yours I am, he faid, and have defervM 
Your lore much better whom fo long I ferv'd. 

Than 



I 



CYMON AND IPHIGENIA. tSf 

Than he to whom your formal father ty'd 
Your vows, and fold a flave, not fent a bride. 
Thus while he I'poke, he feizM the willing prey. 
As Paris bore the Spartan fpoufe away. 
Faintly file fcrcamM, and ev*n her eyes confcfs'd 
She rather wouul be thought, than was diflrefsM. 
Who now exults but Cymon in his mind ? 
Vain hopes and empty joys of human kind. 
Proud of the prefent, to the future blind ! 
Secure of fate, while Cvmon plows the fea, 
And (leers to Candy ^vith his conquered prey. 
Scarce the third glais of meafurM hours was run^ 
When like a "fiery meteor funk the fun ; 
The promife of a ftorm } the (hifting gales 
Forfake by fits, and fill the flagging fails j 
Hoarfe murmurs of the main from far were heard^ 
And night came on, not by degrees prepar''dy 
But all at once j at once the winds arife, 
The thunders roll, the forky lightning flies. 
In vain the mafter i/Tues out commands, 
In vain the* trembling failors ply their hands : 
The tempeft unforefeen prevents their care. 
And from the firft they labour in defpair. 
The giddy ftiip betwixt the winds and tides, 
ForcM back, and forwards, in a circle ridet, 
StunnM with the different blows ; then (hoots amaiaf 
Till, counterbulf'd, fhe flops, and fleeps again. 
Not more aghaft the proud archangel fell, 
Piung'd fi;oiu the height of heavea to deepefl hell. 

That 



^iS DRYDEN^S POEMS. 

T'han ftood the iover of his love poflefs'd, 
^ow cursM'the more, the more he had been blefs'd| 
More anxious for her danger than his own, 
Death he defies ; but would be loft alone. 

Sad Iphigene to womanrfli complaints 
Adds pious prayers, and wearies all the faints ^ 
Ev*n if flie could, her love fhe would repent. 
But, fince (he cannot, dreads the puni(hment : 
Her forfeit faith, and Pafimond betray'd. 
Are ever prefent, and her crime upl^raid. 
She blames -lierfelf, nor blames her lover lefs, 
Augmeats her anger, as her fears increafe : 
From her own back the burden would remove. 
And lays the load on his ungovern'd love. 
Which interpofmg durft, in heaven's defpite. 
Invade,, and violate another's right ■: 
The powers incens'd a while deferred his pain. 
And made him matter of his vows in vain : 
3ut foon they punifh'd his prefumptuous pride j 
That for his daring enterprize fhe dyM 5 
"Who rather -not refifted, than comply'd. 

Then, impotent of mind, with altered fenfe, 
.She hugg'd th' offender, and forgave th' offence. 
Sex to the laft : mean time with fails declined 
The wandering vefTel drove before the wind : 
Tois'd and retofs'd, aloft, and then below. 
Nor port they feek, nor certain courfe they know. 
But every moment wait the coming blow. 
Thus blindly driven, by breaking day they viewM 
Tkfi land before them, and their fears renewed | 

The 



I 



CYMON ASD IPHIGENIA. 265 

The land was welcome, but the tempeft bore 
The threatened fhip againft a rocky fliore. 

A winding bay was near ; to this they bent. 
And juft efcap'd ; their force already fpent : 
Secure from ftorms, and panting from the fea. 
The land imknown at leifure they fiirvey ; 
And faw (but foon their fickly fight withdrew) 
The riling towers of Rhodes at diftant yicw 5 
And cursM the hoftiie (hore of Pafimend, 
Sav'd from the feas, and (hipwreck'd on the ground. 

The frighted failors tryM their Ibength in vain 
To turn the ftein, and tempt the ftormy mainj 
But the ftiff wind withftood the labouring oar^ 
And forcM them forward on the fatal /hore ! 
The crooked keel now bites the Rhodian ftrand. 
And the fliip moor'd conftrains the crew to land t 
Yet ftill they might be fafe, becaufe unknown. 
But, as ill fortune feldom comes alone. 
The vefl'el tliey difmifsM was driven beforcj 
Already fiielter'd on their native fhorei 
Known each, they knowj. but each with change of chcar 5; 
The vanquiflrd fide exults j the viftors fear 5 
Not thfm but theirs, made prifoners ere they fight,. 
Dcfpairing conqueft, and deprivM of flight. 

The country rings around with loud alarms. 
And raw in fields the rude militia fwarras ; 
Mouths without hands j maintained at vaft expence,, 
In peace a charge, in war a weak defence : 
Stout once a month they march, a liluftering band,. 
And ever, but in times of need, at hand j, 

TKi* 



\ 



»7x IXRYDEN'S POEMS. 

Love never fails to mafter what he finds. 
But works a different way in different minds. 
The fool enlightens, and the wife he blinds. 
This youth propofmg to poffefs and fcape. 
Began in murder, to conclude in rape : 
Unprais'd by me, though heaven fometimes may bleft 
An impious aft with undeferv'd fuccefs : 
The great it feems are privileged alone 
To punifti all injuftice but their own. 
But here I ftop, not daring to proceed, t 

Yet blufh to flatter an unrighteous deed : J 

For crimes are but permitted, not decreed, j 

Refolv'd on force, his wit the praetor bent. 
To find the means that might fecure th' event j 
Nor long he laboured, for his lucky thought 
In captive Cymon found the friend he fought ; 
Th' example plcas'd : the caufe and crime the fame ; 
An injured lover, and a ravifhM dame. 
Hew much he durft he knew by what he dar'd, 
The lefs he had to lofc, the lefs he car\l. 
To manage loathfome life when love was the reward 

This pondcr'd well, and fix'd on his intent. 
In depth of night he for the prifoner fent ; 
In fecret fcnt, the public view to fhun, 
Then with a fober fmile he thus begun. 
The powers above, who bounteoufly beftow 
Their gifts and graces on mankind below. 
Yet prove our merit firft, nor blindly give 
To fuch as are not worthy to receive ; 

For 



.1 



CYMON AND IPHIGENIA. ayj 

For valcJur and for virtue they provide 
Their due reward, but firft they muft be try'd: 
Thefe fruitful feeds within your mind they fow'd f 
'Twas yours f Improve the talent they beftow'd i 
They gave you to be born of noble kind. 
They gave you love to lighten up your mind. 
And purge the groffer parts 5 they gave you care 
To pleale, and courage to defei-ve the fair. 

Thus far they try'd you, and by proof they foun^ 
The grain intruded in a grateful ground : 
But ftili the great experiment remained, 
They fuiFer'd you to lofe the prize you gain'd j 
That you might learn the gift was theirs alone : 
And when reftor'd, to them the bleffing own, 
Reftor'd it foon will be j the means prepared. 
The difficulty fmooth'd, the danger fliar'di 
Be but yourfelf, the care to me refign. 
Then Iphigene is yours, Caffandra mine. 
Your rival Paiimond puvfues your life. 
Impatient to revenge bis ravifliM wife. 
But yet not his ; to-morrow is behind, 
And love our fortunes in one band has joined » 
Two brothers are our foes, Ormifda mine. 
As much declarM as Pafimond is thine : 
To-morrow muft their common vows be ty'd ! 
With love to friend, and fortune for our guide, 
Lt:t both refolvc to die, or each redeem a bride. 

Right I have none, nor haft thou much to pleadj 
'Tis force, when done, muft Juftify the deed; 

Vol. UL T Oh* 



I 



174. DR YD EN'S POEMS. 

Our taik perform'd,. we next prepare for flight! 

And let the lofers talk in vain of right : 

We with the fair will fail before the windy 

If they are griev'd, I leave the laws behind. 

Speak thy refolves : if now thy courage droop, 

Defpair in prifon, and abandon hope : 

But if thou dar*ft in arms thy love regain 

(For liberty without thy love were vain) j 

Then fecond my defign to feize the prey. 

Or lead to fecond rape, for well thou know'ft the way. 

Said Cymon overjoyed, do thou propofe 
The means to fight, and only fliew the foes : 
For from the fii ft, when love had fir'd my mind, 
Refolv'd I left the care of life behind. 

To this the bold Lyfimachus reply'd, 
Let heaven be neuter, and the fword decide j 
The fpoufals are prepared, already play 
The minftrels, and provoke the tardy day : 
By this the brides are wak'd, their grooms are drcfs'd; 
All Rhodes is fummon'd to the nuptial feaft. 
All but myfclf the fole unbidden gueft. 
Unbidden though I am, I will be there, 
And joinM by thee, intend to joy the fair. 

Now hear the reft j when day refigns the light. 
And chearful torches gild the jolly night. 
Be ready at my call ; my chofen few 
With arms adminifter'd (hall aid thy crew. 
Then entering unexpcfted will we feize 
Our deilinM prey, from men difTolv'd in caft | 

By 



I 



CYMGN AND IPHIGENIA. 275 

By wine difahled, unpreparM for fight : 
And haftening to the feas, fuborn our flight : 
The Teas are ours, fcr I command the fort, 
A fliip well-man'd expe6ls us in the port : 
If they, or if their friends, the prize conteft, 
Death (hall attend the man who dares refift. 

It pleased ! the prifoner to his hold retir'd, ^ 

His troop with equal emulation fir'd, C 

All fix'd to fight, and all their wonted work required, 3 
The fun arofe j the ftreets were throng'd around. 
The palace opened, and the pods were crownM. 
The double bridegroom at the door attends 
Th' expelled fpoufe, and entertains the friends : 
They meet, they lead to church, the priefts invoke 
The powers, and feed the flames with fragrant fmoke. 
This done, they fcaft, and at the clofe of night 
By kindled torches vary their delight, 
Thefe lead the lively dance, and thofe the brimming 
bowls invite. 

Now, at th' appointed place and hour aflign'd 
With fouls refolv'd the ravifhers were join'd : 
Three bands are form\l ; the firft is fent before 
To favour the retreat, and guard the fliore; 
The Iccond at the palace-gate is plac'd, 
And up the lofty flairs afcend the laft : 
A peaceful troop they feem with fliining vcfis, 
But coats of mail beneath fecure their breafls. 

Dauntlefs they enter, Cymon at their head. 
And find the Teafl: renew'd, the table fpread ; 

T z Sweet 



1 



%j6 DRYDEN'S POEMS. 

Sweet voices, mixM with infti-umental founds, 
Afceod the vaulted roof, the vaulted roof reboundSsw 
When like the harpies rufliing through the hall 
The fudden troop appears, the tables fall. 
Their fnioaking load is on the pavement thrown ^ . 
Each ravifher prepares to icize his own : 
The brides, invaded with a rude embrace. 
Shriek out for aid, confufion fills the place. 
Quick to redeem the prey their plighted lords- 
Advance, the palace gleams with fliining fword9» 

But late is all defence, and fuccour vain j. 
The rape is made, the ravifhcrs remain : 
Two fturdy flaves were only fent before 
To bear the purchased prize in fafety to the fhorej^ 
The troop retires, the lovers clofe the rear. 
With forward faces not confefBng fear i 
Backward they move, but fcorn their pace to mend ;; 
Then feek tlie ftairs, and with flow hafte defcend- 

Fici-ce Pafimond, their paflage to prevent, 
Thruft full on Cyraon's back in his defcent. 
The blade returned unbath*d, and to the handle bent. 
Stout Cymon foon remounts, and cleft in two- 
His rival's head with one defcending blow : 
And as the next in rank Ormifda (lood. 
He turned tlie point ; the fword inur'd to blood; 
Bor'd his unguarded breaft, which pour'd a purple- 

fiood. 

With vow'd revenge the gathering crowd purfueSy 
The raviflicrs turn head« tho^ fight renews |, 

Thfr 



I 



DifpersM at length the drunken fquadron flies. 
The viftors to their veffel bear the prize $ 



a, J 

e key. J 



CYMON AND IPHIGENIA. ^^f 

The hall is heapM with corps ; the fprinkled gore 
Befmears the walls, and floats the marble floor. 

And hear behind loud groans, and lamentable cries. ^ 
The crew with merry ihouts their anchors wcig 
Then ply their oars, and bnifli the buxom fea, 
While troops of gathered Rhodians crowd the 1 
What fhould the people do when left alone ? 
The governor and government are gone. 
The public wealth to foreign parts convey'd 5 
Some troops difbanded, and the reft unpaid. 
Rhodes is the fovereign of the fea no more ; 
Their (hips unriggM, and fpent their naval flore{ 
They neither could defend, nor can purfue. 
But grinnM their teeth, and caft a helplefs view x 
In vain with darts a diftant war they try, 
■Short, and more (hort, the mifUve weapons fly. 
Mean while the ravifliers their crimes enjoy. 
And flying fails and fweeping oars employ : 
The cliffs of Rhodes in little fpace are loft, 
Jove's ifle they feek ; nor Jove denies his coaiL 

In fafety landed on the Candian flioie, 
With generous wines their fpirits they reftore : 
There Cymon with his Rhodian friend refides, 
Bpth court, and wed at once the willing brides* 
A war enfues, the Cretans own their caufe, 
Stiff to defend their hofpitable laws : 
Both parties lofe by turns j and neither wins, 
Till peace propounded by a truce begins. 

T 3 The 



VX BRYDEN'S POEMS. 

The kindred of the flaiti forgive the deed. 
But a fhort exile muft for (how precede : 
The term cxpirM, from Candia they remove ; 
And happy each, at home, enjoys his love. 



TRANS- 



TRANSLATIONS 



FROM 



OVID'S METAMORPHOSES. 



T + 



T O 
The Rxght Honourable 
LORD RADCLIFFE, 

My Lord, 
npHESE Mifcellany Poems • are by manytitlet 

-*- yours* The firft they claim from yourjacceptance . 
of my promi£e to prefent them to you, . before fome of 
them were yet in being* The reft arc derived from 
your own merit, the exaflnefs of your judgment in 
poetry, and the candour of your nature j eafy to for- 
give fome trivial faults when they come accompanied 
with countervailing beauties. But, after all, though 
ihefe are your equitable claims to a dedication from 
other Poets, yet I muft acknowledge a bribe in the caie, 
which is your particular liking to my verfes. It is a 
vanity common to a}l writers, to over- value their. own 
productions 5 and it is better for me to own this fail- 
ing in myfelf, than the world to do it for me. For what 
other reafon have I fpent my life in fo unprofitable a . 
iludy ? why am I grown old, in feeking fo barren a 
reward as fame ? The fame parts and applicationt 
which have made me a poet, might have raifed me to . 
any honours of the gown, which are often given to 
men of as little learning and lefs honefty than myfelf. 
No government has ever been, or ever can be, wherein > 
time-fervers and blockheads will not be uppermoft* 

Th». 

* Prefixed to the Third Volume cf Drydcn'f Mi£. 
cellany Poems^ prixited in 1693. 



«?4. DEDICATION. 

years : has he Axcceeded in his attempt ? he hat Indeed 
ihown us (bme of thofe imperfedlions in him, which are 
incidmt to huntan kihdt but who had not rather be 
th^t Homer than this Scaliger ? You fee the fanne hy- 
|>ercriticky when he endeavours to mend th^ beginning 
of Claudian (a faulty poet and living in a bafbarout 
age) yet how-fhort he comes of him, and fubftitutes 
iuch verfes of his own as deferve tl^ ferula. What a 
cenfure has he made of Lucan, that he rath^ (eems to 
l)ark than iing ? would any but a dog, have made f<» 
rfnarling a comparifon i one would haVe thought he had 
beamed Latin, as late as they tell' us he did Greek* 
Yet he came off, with a face tud^ by your good leave, 
Xucan ^ he called him not by thofe outrageous nannest 
of fool, booby, and blockhead : he had ibmewhat more 
'Of good-manners than his fuccefTors, as he had much 
more knowledge. We have two forts of thofe gentle- 
men in our nation : fome of them proceeding with 'a 
i*eeming modei-ation and pretence oif fe%e^ to the dra* 
tna;kick writers of the laft age, only fcorn and vilify the 
prefent poets, to fet up their predeceflor$. But this is 
only in appearance $ for their real- d^gn is nothing left 
-than to do honour to any man, beddesi themfelves. 
Horace took notice of fuch men in his age : *^ Non in* 
** geniis favet ille, fepultis ; noftra fed impugnat ; nos 
<< noftraque lividus odit/* It is not with an ultimate 
Intention to pay reverence to the manes of Shakefpeare, 
Fletcher, and Ben Jonfbn, that they coinmend theiir 
-vrritings, but to throw dirt on the writers of this age t 
their declaration is one thing, and their pQi^ce is ano- 
ther. 



DEDICATION. 48^ 

ther. By a feeming veneration to our fathers, they 
would thruft out us their lawful iflue, and govern us 
themfelves, uiufer a fpeciou* pretence of reformation. • 
If they could compafa their intent^ what would wit and 
learning get by fuch a change ? if we are bad poets, 
they are worfe f and when any of their woeful pieces 
come abroad,, the difference is fa great betwixt theift 
and good writers, tlrat there need no criticifms on our 
part to decide it. When they defcribe the writers of 
this age, they draw fuch monftrous figures of them,, as 
refemble none of us : om* pretended pictures- are fo un« 
like, that it is evident we never fate to them : they are- 
all grotefque j the products of their wild imaginations^ 
things out of nature, fo far from being copied from us^ 
tliat they refemble nothing that ever was, or ever cani 
be. But there is another fort of infe£is, more veno- 
mous than the former. Thofe who- manifeftly aim air 
the deftruftion of our poetical church and* ftate ;. who» 
allow nothing to their country-men, eFther of this 
or of the former age. Thefc attack the living by rak- 
rng up the afhes of the dead y well knowing that if the^r 
can fubvert their original title to the ftage^ we who 
claim under them muft fall of courfc Peace be to the- 
venerable (hades of Shakefpeare and Ben Jonfon*. none: 
of the living will prefume to have any competition, 
with them : as they were our prcdeceflbrs^ fo they were, 
©ur mafters. We trail our plays under them;, but (ai* 
at the funerals of a Turkish emperor) our enfigns are: 
furled or dragged upon the ground, in honour to the 
dead ^ fo we may lawfully advance our ovroy. vktv^ 

vardt> 



stZ DEDICATION. 

aAors. They follow the ancients too fervilleyv in die 
xnachanick rules, and we aifome too much licence to 
ourfelvesy in keeping them only in view, at too great 
a diftance. But if our audience had their taftes» our 
poets could more eafily comply with them, thaA the 
French writers could come up to the fubltmity of our 
thoughts, or to the difficult variety of our deiig^s* 
However it be, I dare eftablifh it for a rule of pra^icci 
on the ftage, that we are bound to pleafe thofe whom 
^e pretend to entertain ; and that at any price, religion 
and good-manners only excepted ; and I care not niuch> . 
if I give this handle to our bad illiterate poetaftei-s, for 
the defence of their Scriptions, as they call them. 
There is a fort of merit in delighting the fpe^atorsj 
which is a name more proper for them, than that of 
auditors : or elfe Horace is in the wrong, when he 
commends Lucilius for it. But thefe common-placet 
I mean to treat at greater leifure : in the mean time, 
fubmitting that little I have faid, to your Lordibip's 
approbation, or your cenfure^ and chuilng rather to en- 
tertain you this way, a$ you are a judge of writing;, 
th^n to opprefs your modefty with other .commenda- 
tions 3 which, though .they are your doe, yet would . 
nQt be equally received in this fatirical and cenforioua 
age. That which cannot without injury be denied t» 
you, is the eafmefs of your converfation, far f!;oxa 
affe6lation or pride : not denying even to enemies 4*eif 
)u^ praifes. And this, if 1 would dw»]i on aiiy. theme 
of, this nature, is no vulgar commendation ,to.,.yqiir , 
JLprdihip. Without flatteryi my L^rd^ you haw it ia 



BE D I CATI Oir. «ty 

your nature^ to be a patron and encotirager of good 
poets, bat yoar fortune has not yet put into your handt 
the opportunity of expreiling it. What you will btr 
hereafter, may be more than gucffcd, by what you an! 
at pi-efent. You maintain the chara£ler of a nobleman^ 
without that haughtinefs which generally attends too 
many of the nobility 5 and when you converfewith gen- 
tlemen, you forget not that you have been of their or- 
der. You are married to the daughter of a king, who^ 
amongit her other high perfections, has derived from 
him a charming behaviour, a winning goodnefs, and a 
majeilic perfon. The Mufes and the Graces are the 
ornaments of your family ; while the Mufe fings, the 
Grace accompanies her voice 1 even the fervants of the 
Mufes have fometimes had the happineis to hear her } 
and to receive their infpirations from her. 

I will not give myfelf the liberty of going farther; 
for it is fo fweet to wander in a pleafing way, that I 
ihould never arrive at my journey's end. To keep my« 
felf from being belated in my letter, and tiring your at- 
tention, I muft return to the place where I was fetting 
out. I humbly dedicate to your Lordfliip, my own la- 
bours in this Mifcellany : at the fame time, not arro- 
gating tamyielf the privilege of infcribing to you» the 
works of others who are joined with me in this under* 
taking, over which I can pretend no right. Your lady 
and you have done me the favour to hear me read my 
tranfladons of Ovid ; and you both feemed not to b# 
difpleafed with them. Whether it be the partiality of 
an old man to bit- ywmgtk Mli, I know not: bur 

Vol. hi. U ihc>' 



a90 DEDICATION- 

they appear to me the bcft of all my endeavours in thii 
kind. Perhaps this poet is more eafy to be tranflated 
than fome others, whom I have lately attempted : per- 
haps too, he was more according to my genius. He is 
certainly more palatable to the reader, than any of the 
Koman wits ; though fome of them are more lofty, 
fome more inftru£bive, and others more corre£l. He 
had leai'ning enough to make him equal to the heft.. 
But as his verfe came eafily, he wanted the toil of ap- 
plication to amend it. He is often luxuriant both in 
his fancy and expreillons, and, as it has lately been ob- 
ferved, not always natural. If wit be pleafantry, he 
has it to excefs ; but if it be propriety, Lucretius, Ho- 
race, and above all, Virgil, are his fuperiors. I have 
faid fo much of him already, in my preface to his He- 
roical epiftles, that there remains little to be added in. 
this place : for my own part, I have endeavoured to 
copy his chara£ler what I could in this tranAation, even . 
perhaps farther than I /houki have done j to his very 
faults. Mr. Chapman, in his tranilatron of Homer, 
profefies to have done it fomewhat paraphraftically^ and 
that on fct purpofe ; his opinion being, that a good 
poet is to be tranflated.in that manner. I rcmembernot. 
the reafon which. he gives for it : but I fuppofe it is^ for 
fear of omitting any of his excellencies: fure I am,, 
that if it be a fault, it is much: moi'e pardonable than 
that of thofe, who run into the. other extreme of a lite* 
ral and clofe: tranilation, where the poet is confined fo. 
ftreightly to his author's words, that he wants elbow- 
room to exprefs his elegauciffSt JO; leaves him obfcure;. 
.•5 w .he 



DEDICATION. 191 

he leaves him profe, where he found hira verfc : and na 
better than thus has Ovid been ferved by the Co much 
admired Sandys. This is at lead the idea which I have 
remaining of his tranflation 5 for I never read him fmce 
I was a boy. They who take him upon content, from 
the praifes which their fathers gave him, may inform 
their judgment by reading him again, and fee (if they 
imderftand tlie original) what is become of Ovid's poe- 
try, in his verfion ; whether it be not all, or the great- 
eft part of it, evaporated : but this proceeded from the 
wrong judgment of the age in which he lived. They 
neither knew good verfe, nor loved it ; they were fcho- 
lars", it is true, but they were pedants. And for a juft 
reward of their pedantic pains, all their tranflations 
want to be tranilated into Englifti. 

If I flatter not myfelf, or if my friends have not flat- 
tered me, I have given my author's fcnfe, for the moft 
part, truly : for to miftakc fometimes, is incident to all 
menj and not to follow the Dutch commentators always, 
may be forgiven to a man who thinks them, in the ge- 
neral, heavy grofs-witted fellows, fit only to glofs on 
their own dull poets. But 1 leave a faithcr fatirc on 
their wit, till I have a better opportunity to (hew how 
much I love and honour them. I have likewife attempt- 
ed to reftore Ovid to his native fweetnefs, eallnefs, and 
fmoothnefs 5 and to give my poetry a kind of cadence, 
and, as we call it, a run of verft, as like the original, 
r.s the Englifh can come up to the Latin. As he fel- 
dom ufes any Synalephas, fo I have endeavoured to 
avoid them, at often as I could 1 I have likewife given 
• U % him 



S9ft DEDICATIOK. 

kim hit own tums» both on the wonh and on tW 
thought, which I cannot fay are inimitable, becavfe F 
haye copied theni) and fo may others, if they aib tbe 
(kmt dib'gence: but certainly they are wondeifally 
graceful in this poet. Since I haye named the SynaYe- 
pha, which is the cutting oflTone vowel immediately be- 
fore another, I will give an example of it from Chap- 
man*s Homer, which lies before me j for the benefit of 
thofe who underftand not the Latin^ Ptoibdia. It it in 
the firft line of the argument to the firft Iliad. 

Apollo^'s priefl to th^ Argive fleet doth bringj &c. 
There we fee he makes it not the Argive, btrt th* At- 
give, to ihun the (hock of the two vowels, immediately 
following each other ; but, in his fecond ai^meaty in 
the fame page, he gives a bad example of the ^uifee c«»r 
trary kind : 

Alpha the prayer of Chryles fings ; 

The army's plague, the ftrifc of kings. 
In theTe words tbf armfs^ the ending with a voweV 
and armfs beginning with another vowel, without cut""- 
ting off the firft, which by k had been th" armfs^ there 
remains a moft horrible ill-founding gap betwixt thofe 
words. I cannot fay that I have every way obfervcd 
the rule of the Synalepha in my tranflation ; but where- 
foever I have not, it is a fault in found t the French' 
and the Italians have iliade it an inviolable precept in 
their verfification ; therein following the fevere example' 
of the Latin poet. Our countrymen have not yet re- 
formed their poetry fo far, but eonteat themfelvtt with 
5 foUowiflg 



DEDICATION. %9Z 

following the licentioxis praftice of the Greeks ; who, 
though they fometimes ufe Synalephas, yet make no 
difficulty, very often, to found one vowel upon another; 
as Homer does, in the very firft line of Alpha. Mrfrir 
«i//k e«flt^ Tlnxntd^m *Ax'^»®*. It is true, indeed, that 
in the fecond line, in thefe words fxvp) *A;i^«io7c, and 
dhyi iBuxtv. the Synalepha in revenge is twice obferved. 
But it becomes us, for the fake of Euphony, rather. 
«* Mufas colere feverlores," with the Romans, than to 
give into the loofenefs of the Grecians. 

I have tired myfelf, and have been fummoned by the 
prefs to fend away this Dedication, otherwifc I had ex- 
pofed fome other faults, which are daily committed by 
our Englifh poets ; which, with care and obfervation, 
might be amended. For, after all, our language is 
both copious, fignificant, and majeftical, and might be 
reduced into a more haimonious found. But, for want 
of public encouragement, in this iron age, we are fo far 
from making any progrefs in the improvement of oUt 
tongue, that in few years we (hall fpeak and write as 
barbaroufly as our neighbours. 

Notwithftanding my hade, I cannot forbear to tell 
your Lordlhip, that there are two fragments of Hbiiier 
tranflated in this Mifcellany; one by Mr. Congreve 
(whom I cannot mention without the honour which is 
due to his excellent parts, and that entire affe6lion 
which I bear him) and the other by myfelf. Both the 
fubje6l5 are pathetical, and I am fure my friend has 
added to the tendernefs which he found in the onginal, 
and, without flattery, furpafied his author. Yet I muft 
U 3 needs 



1194 DEDICATION. 

needs fay this in reference to Homer, that he is rav.ch 
11)01 e capable of exciting the manly pafJicns thay thole 
of grief and pity. To caufe admiration, is indeed the 
proper and adequate defign of an epic poem: and in 
that he has excelled even Virgil ; yet, without prefum- 
ing to arraign our maftcr, I may venture to affirm, that 
he is foir.ewhat too talkative, and more than fomewhat 
too digreflive. This is fo manifeft, that it cannot be denied 
in that little parcel which I have tranfiated, perhaps 
too literally : there Andromache, in the midft of her 
concernment, and- fright for Ileflor, runs offherbiafs, 
to tell him a ftory of her pedigree, and of the lamen- 
table death of her father, her mother, and her feven 
brothers. The devil was in Heflor if he knew not all 
this matter, as well as (he who told it him 5 for (he had 
been his bedfellow for many years together : and if he 
knew it, then it mull he confcfled, that Homer, in this 
long digrelfion, has rather given her his own chara£ler, 
than that of the fair lady whom he paints. His dear 
friends the commentators, who never fail him at a 
pinch, will needs excufe him, by making the prefent 
forrow of Andromache, to occafion the remembrance of 
all the paft : but others think that (he had enough to 
do with that grief which now opprefled her, without 
running for afliftance to her family. Virgil, I am con- 
fident, would have omitted fuch a work of fupereroga- 
tion. But Virgil had the gift of exprefling much in 
little, and fometimcs in filence : for though he yielded 
much to Homer in invention, he more excelled him in 
bis admirable judgment. He drew the pailion of Dido 

for 



D E 1> I C A T I O. Nr a^s 

4or ^neas^ in the moft lively and mod natural colours 
jmagihable: Homer was ambitious enough of moving 
pity J for he has attempted twice on the fame fubje6l of 
Heftor's death : firft, when Priam and Hecuba beheld 
his corpfe, which was dragged after the chariot of Achil- 
les ; and then in the lamentation which was made over 
him, when his body was redeemed by Priam 5 and the 
fame perfons again bewailed his death, with a chorus of 
others to help the cry. But if this laft excite compaf- 
iion in you', as I doubt not but it will, you are more 
obliged to the tranflator than the poet : for Homer, as 
I obferved before, can move rage better than he can 
pity ! he ftirs up the irafcible appetite, as our philofo- 
phers call it ; he provokes to murther, and the deftruc- 
tion of God's images ; he forms and equips thofe un- 
godly man -killers, whom we poets, when we flatter 
them, call heroes ; a race of men, who can never en- 
joy quiet in themfelves, till they have taken it from all 
the world. This is Homer's commendation; and fuch 
as it is, the lovers of peace, or at leaft of more mode- 
rate hcroifm, will never envy him. But let Homer and 
Virgil contend for the prize of honour betwixt them- 
felves ; I am fatisfied they will never have a third con- 
current. I wifh Mr. Cofigreve had the leifure to tranf- 
late him, and the world the goocl -nature and juftice to 
encourage him in that noble defign, of wliich he is 
more capable than any ir.an I know. The earl of Mul- 
grave and Mr. Waller, two the beft judges of our age, 
have aflurcd me, that they could never read over the 
tranflation of Chapman, without incredible pleafure 
V 4 and 



«96 DEDICATION. 

and extreme tranfpott. This admiration of dieirs mai 
needs proceed from the author himfelf t for the tranfla- 
tot" has thrown him down -as low as harfh numbers, 
improper English, and a monfirous length of verfe» 
could carry him. What then wouM he appear in the 
harmonious verfion of one of the befl: writers, living ia 
a much better age than was the laft ? I mean for verfifi« 
cation, and the art of numbers : for in the ^ama we 
have not arrived to the pitch of Shakefpeare and Bea 
Jonfon. But here, my Lord, I am forced to break 
off abruptly, without endeavouring at a complimeBt in 
the clofe. This Mifcellany is, without difpute^ one of 
the beil of the kind, which has hitherto been extant in 
our tongue. At lead, as Sir Samuel Tukehas faid he- 
fore me, a modeft man may praife what is not his own. 
My fellows have no need of any proteflion : but I kuni'* 
bly recommend my part of it, as much as it defervesx 
to your patronage and acceptance, and all the reft to 
your fbrgivenefs. I am. 

My Lord, 

Your Lordihip*s mod 

Obedient Servant, 

JOHN DRYDEN; 



THE 



[ »97 ] 
THE 

FIRST BOOK 

o F 

OVrD'S METAMORPHOSES. 

/^F bodies changed to various forms I fing : 

^^ Ye Gods, from whence thefe miracles did fpring, 

Infpire my numbers with celeilial heat ; 

Till I my long laborious work compleat j 

And add perpetual tenor to my rhymes, 

DeducM from nature 's birth, to Cajfar's times. 

Before the feas, and this terreilrial ball. 
And heaven's high canopy, that covers all. 
One was the face of nature, if a face j 
Rather a rude and indigefted raafs : 
A lifelefs lump, unfafhionM,»and unframM, 
Of jarHng feeds, and juftly Chaos nam'd. 
No fun was lighted up the world to view j 
No moon did yet her blunted horns renew ; 
Nor yet was earth fufpended in the iky ) 
Nor, poisM, did on her own foundations lie i 
Nor feas about the /liores their arms had thrown } 
But earth, and air, and water, were in one. 
Thus air was void of light, and e^rtli unftablc. 
And water's dark abyfs unnavij^-ible. 

No 



'I 



ic8 TRANSLATIONS 

No certain form on any was impreft ; 
All were confusM, and each difturb'd the reft. 
For hot and ccld were in one bcdy fixt, 
And foft with hard, and light with heavy mixt* 
But God, or Nature, while they thus contend. 
To thefe inteftine d'fcords put an end. 
Then earth from air, and Teas from earth were driven. 
And groffer air funk from aetherial heaven. 
Thus difcmbroird, they take their proper place j 
The next of kia contiguoufly embrace ; 
And foes are funderM by a larger fpace. 
The force of fire afcended faft on high. 
And took its dwelling in the vaulted Iky. 
Then air fucceeds, in lightnefs next to fire j 
Whofe atoms from unaftivc earth retire. 
Earth finks beneath, and draws a numerous throng 
Of ponderous, thick, unwieldy feeds along. 
About her coafts unruly waters roar. 
And, rifing on a ridge, infult the ftiore. 
Thus when the God, whatever God was he. 
Had formed the whole, and made the parts agree. 
That no unequal portions ir.ight be found, 
He nioulded earth into a fpacious round : 
Then, with a breath, he gave the winds to blow j 
And bade the congregated waters fiow. 
He adds the running fprings, and Handing lakes j 
And boun^iing banks for winding rivers makes. 
Some part in earth are fwallow'd up, the mcft 
In ample oceans, difembogucd, aie loft. 

He 



FROM OVID. 29^ 

He (hades the woods, the vallies he reftrains 
With rocky mountains, and extends the plains. 

And as five zones th' cetherial regions bind. 
Five, correfpondent, are to earth aflignM : 
The fun with rays, direclly darting down, 
Fires all beneath, and fries the middle zone : 
The two beneath the dlftant poles complain 
Of endlefs winter, and perpetual rain. 
Betwixt th' extremes, two happier climates hold 
The temper that partakes of hot and cold. 
The fields of liquid air, inclofing all, 
SiuTound the compafs of this earthly ball : 
The lighter parts He next the fires above; 
The grofTcr near the watery furface move : 
Thick clouds arefpread, and ftorms engender there. 
And thunder's voice, which wretched mortals fear. 
And winds that on their wings cold winter bear. 
Nor were thofe bluilering brethren left at large. 
On feas and fhores their fury to difcharge : 
Bound as they are, and circumfcrib'd in place. 
They rend the world, refiftlefs, where they pafs j 
And mighty marks of mifchief leave behind ; 
Such is the rage of their tempeftuous kind. 
Firft Eurus to the rifmg morn i» fent, 
(The regions of the balmy continent) 
And Eadern realms, where early Perfians run. 
To greet the blcft appearance of the fun. 
Weftward the wanton Zephyr wings his flight, 
^leas'd v.'ith the remnants of departing light i 

Fierce 



90) TRANSLATIONS 

Fierce Boreas with his oflfspring iflTucs forth, 
T' invade the frozen waggon of the North. 
While frowning Auftcr fecks the fouthern fphere. 
And rots, with endlefs rain, th* unwholfome year. 

High o>r the clouds, and empty realms of wind. 
The God a clearer fpace for heaven dcfign'd | 
Where fields of light and liquid aether flow, 
PurgM from the ponderous dregs of earth below. 

Scarce had the power diftinguifli'd thefc, when ftraight 
The ftais, no longer overlaid with weight. 
Exert their heads from underneath the mafs. 
And upward (hoot, and kindle as they pafs. 
And with diffufive light adorn the heavenly place. 
Then, every void of nature to fupply, 
With forms of Gods he fills the vacant (ky : 
New herds of beafts he fends, the plains to fliare } 
New colonies of birds, to people air $ 
And to their oozy beds the finny fiih repair. 
A creature of a more exalted kind 
Was wanting yet, and then was man dcfign'd s 
Confcious of thought, of more capacious breaft^ 
For empire form'd, and fit to rule the reft i 
Whether with particles of heavenly fire 
The God of nature did his foul infpire j 
Or earth, but new divided from the (ky, 
And pliant ftill, retained th* aetherial energy : 
Which wife Prometheus tempered into pafte. 
And, mixt with living dreams, the godlike image eaft. 
Thus, while the mute creation downward bend 
■f heir fight, and to theii* eaiihly mother tend, 

Man 



F R O M O V I D. sot 

Man looks aloft, and with erefted eyes 
Beholds his own hereditary Ikiei. 
From fuch rude principles our form began. 
And eafth was metamorphosM into man. 



} 



} 



THE GOLDEN AGE, 

The golden age was firft ; when man, yet ncwj 
No rule but uncorrupted reafon knew ; 
And, with a native bent, did good purfue. 
Unforc'd by punifhment, unaw'd by. fear, 
His words were fimple, and his foul iincere i 
Needlefs was written-law, where none oppreft| 
The law of man was written in his brcaft : 
No fuppliant crowds before the judge appev'd ; 
No court erc6lcd yet, nor caiife was heard ; 
But all was fafe, for confcience was their guard: 
The mountain-trees in diftant pfofpefl plcafc. 
Ere yet the pine delcended to the fea* j 
Ere fails were fprcad, new oceans to explore; 
And happy mortals, unconcerned for more, 
ConHnM their wiflies to their native fhore. 
No walls were yet^ nor fence, nor mote, nor mound j 
Nor drum was heard, nor trumpet's angry fiwind : 
Nor fwords were forg'd ; but, void of care and crime^ 
The loft treation flept away their time. 
The. teeming earth, yet guiltleft of the plough, 
And unprovoked, did fruitful ftores allow t 
Content with food, which nature freely bred. 
On wildings and on ftrawberries they fed j 
Cornels and bramble-berries grave the reft, 
Ajid falling acorns furnifh'd out a feaft. 

Tht 



301 TRANSLATIONS 

The flowers unfown in fields and meadows reignM ; 
And weftern winds immortal Spring roaintainM. 
In following years the bearded corn enfued 
From earth una(k'd, nor was that earth rencw'd. 
From veins of vallies milk and neftar broke j 
And honey fweating through the pores of oak. 

THE SILVER AGE. 

But when good Saturn, banifliM from above. 
Was driven to hell, the world was under Jove. 
Succeeding times a filver age behold, 
Excelling brafs, but more excelTd by gold. 
Then Summer, Autumn, Winter, did appear $ 
And Spring was but a feafon of the year. 
The fun his annual coune obliquely made. 
Good days contra6led, and enlarged the bad. 
Then air with fultry heats began to glow, 
The wings of winds were clogM with ice and fnow j 
And fhivering mortals, into houfes driven, 
Sought flicker from th' inclemency of heaven. 
Thofe houfes, then, were caves, or homely (heds. 
With twining oziers fenc'd, and mofs their beds. 
Then ploughs, for feed, the fruitful furrows broke^ 
And oxen laboured firft beneath the yoke. 

THE BRAZEN AGE. 

To this next came in courfe the brazen age, 
A warlike offspring, prompt to bloody rage, 
Not impious yet— — 

THE 



F R O M O V I D. 50^ 



THE IRON AGE. 

Hard fteel fucceeded then ; 
And ftubborn as the metal were the men. 
Truth, Modefty, and Shame, the world forfook : 
Fraud, Avarice, and Force, their places took. 
Then fails were fpread to every wind that blew | 
Raw were the failors, and tlie depths were new s 
Trees rudely hollow'd, did the waves fuftain : 
Ere (hips in triumph ploughed the watery plain. 

Then land-marks limited to each his right ; 
For all before was common as the light. 
Nor was the ground alone required to bear 
Her annual income to the crooked fhare ; 
But greedy mortals, rummaging her ftore, 
Digged from her entrails firft the precious ore 5 
Wliich next to hell the prudent Gods had laid j 
And that alluring ill to fight difplay'd ; 
Thus curfed fteel, and more accurfed gold, 
Gave mifchief birth, and made that mifchicf bold : 
And double death did wretched man invade, 
By fteel aflaulted, and by gold betrayM. 
Now (bi-andiftiM weapons glittering in their hands} 
Mankind is broken ioofe from moral bands j 
No rights of bofpitality remain : 
The gueft, by him who harbour'd him, is flain : 
The fon-in-law purfues the father's life : 
The wife her hufband murders, he the wife. 
Ti»e ftcp-dame poifon^or the fon prepaies, 
The Ibn inquires into his father's years. 

Faith 



3C4: TRANSLATIONS 

Faith flies, and Piety in exile mourns ; 
And Juftice^ here oppreft, to heaven returns* 

THE GIANTS WAR. ' 

Nor were the Gods themfelves more fafe above; 
Again ft beleagticr'd heaven the giants move. 
Hills pilM on hills, on mountains mountains lie* 
To make their mad approaches to the Iky. 
Till Jove, no longer patient, took his time 
T' avenge with thunder their audacious crime s 
Red lightning play'd along the firmament. 
And their demoliftiM works to pieces rent. 
SingM with the flames, and with the bolts transfixed. 
With nati/e earth their blood the monfters mix*d $ 
The blood, indued with animating heat. 
Did in th'' impregnate earth new fons beget : 
They, like the feed from which they fprung, accurft, 
Againfl the Gods immortal hatred nurft ; 
An impious, arrogant, and cruel brood j 
Exprefling their original from blood. 
Which when the king of Gods beheld ^m high 
(Withal revolving in his memory. 
What he himfelf had found on earth of late, 
Lycaon's guilt, and his inhuman treat) 
He figird, nor longer with his pity ftrovc; 
But kindled to a wrath becoming Jove ; 
Then call'd a general council of the Gods ; 
Who, fummonM, ifliie from their bleft abodes. 
And fill th' aflfembly with a fhininj train, 
A way there is, in heaven's expanded plain. 

Which, 



P It M O V I D. SOS 

Which, when the (kics are clear, is fcen bdow, 
And moitaU by the name of milky know. 
The ground- work is of ftars 5 through which the road 
Lies open to the thunderer^s abode. 
The Gods of greater nations dwell around. 
And, on the ri^ht and left the palace bound ; 
The commons where they can ; the nobler fort. 
With winding-doors wide open, front the court. 
This place, as far as earth with heaven may vie» 
I dare to call the Louvre of the iky. 
When all were placed, in feats diftin£lly known^ 
And he their father had alTum^d the throne. 
Upon his ivory fceptre firft he leant. 
Then (hook his head that Aiook the firmament s 
Air, earth, and feas, obeyM th^ almighty nod | 
And, with a general fear, confefsM the God. 
At length with indignation, thus he broke 
His awful filence, and the powers befpoke : 
I was not more concernM in that debate 
Of empire, when our uniyerfal ftate 
Was put to hazard, and the giant race 
Our captive (kies were ready to embrace : 
For, though the foe was fierce, the feeds of ail 
Rebellion fprung from one original ; 
Now wherefoever ambient waters glide. 
All are corrupt, and all mud be deftroy'd. 
Let me this holy protedation make : 
By hell and hell's inviolable take, 
I try'd whatever in the God -head lay. 
But gangrenM members mud be lopt away, 
Before the nobler parts are tainted to decay. 

Vol. ilL X There 



\ 



3o6 TRANSLATIONS 

There dwells below a race of Demi-gods> 
Of nymphs in waters, and of fawns in woods s 
Who, though not worthy yet in heaven to live. 
Let them at leaft enjoy that earth we give. 
Can thefe be thought fecurely lodgM below. 
When I myfelf, who no fuperior know,. 
I, who have heaven and earth at my command^ 
Have been attempted by Lycaon*s hand ? 

At this a mmmur tlu-ough the fynod went. 
And with one vorce they vote his puniihmeot. 
Thus, when confpiring traitors darM to dooBk 
The fall of Caefar, and in him of Ronae, 
The nations trembled with a pious fear } 
All anxious for their earthly thtmderer : 
Nor was their care, O Cscfar, lefs efteemM 
By thee, than that of heaven for Jove was deemMs 
Who with his hand, and voice, did firft reftrain 
Their murmurs, then refum*d his fpeech ag^iiu 
The Gods to filence were composM, and fate 
With reverence due to his fuperior ftate* 

Cancel your {hous cares ; sdFcady he 
Has paid his debt to juftice, and to me. 
Yet what his crimes, and what my j-Hdgments were. 
Remains for me thus briefly to declare. 
The clamours of this vrle degenerate age. 
The cries of orphans, and th* opprcflbr's rage» ' 
Had reached the ftars ; I will defcend, faid I, 
In hope to prove this loud coniiplaint a lie. , 

Difguis'd in human (hape, I traveird round 
The world, and more than what I heard, I found. 

S O'er 



0*er Maenalus I took my ftcepy way, 

By caverns infamous fot beafts of prey : 

Then crofs'd Cyllene, and the piny lhade> 

More infarto\is by curft Lycaon made i 

Dark night had covered heaven and earth> before 

I entcr'd his unhofpltable door* 

Juft at my entrance, I difplay'd the iign 

That fonriewhat was approaching of divine* 

The proftrate people pray ; the tyrant grins | 

And, adding prophanation to his fms, 
ril try, faid he, and if a God appear. 

To prove his deity (hall coft him deaf. 

*Twa8 late j the gracelefs Wretch my death prepares^ 

When I fhould foundly fleep, oppreft with cares i 

This dire experiment he chofe, to prove 

If I were mortal, or undoubted Jove : 

But firft he had refolvM to tafte my power : 

Not long before, but in a luckle/^ hour, 

Some legates fent from the Moloflian ftate, 

Were on a peaceful errand come to tl^eat ; 

Of thefe he murders one, he boils the ftefli^ 

And lays the mangled morfels in a difh i 

Some part he roafts 5 then ferves it up fo dreft^ 

And bids me welcome to this human fead. 

Mov'd with difdain, the table I o'erturnM ; 

And with avenging flames the palace burned* 

The tyrant, in a fright, for fhclter gains ♦ 

The neighbouring fields, and fcours along the plains. 

Howling he fled, and fain he would have fpoke. 

But human voice his brutal tongue forfook* 

X 4 About 



\ 



So8 TRANSLATIONS 

About his lips the gatherM foam he churns^ 

And, breathing (laughter, ftill with rage he burnsy 

But on the bleating flock his fury turns. 

His mantle, now his hide, with rugged hairs ' 

Cleaves to his back ; a famifliM face be bears ; 

His arms defcend, his fliouldcrs (ink away. 

To multiply his legs for chace of prey. 

He grows a wolf, his hoarinefs remains, 

And the fame rage in other members reigns* 

His eyes ftill fparkle in a narrower fpace. 

His jaws retain the grin and violence of hit face* 

This was a fingle ruin, but not one 
Deferves fo juft a punifliment alone. 
Mankind *s a monfter, and th* ungodly times. 
Confederate into guilt, are fwom to crimes. 
All are alike involved in ill, and all 
Muft by the fame relentlefs fury fall. 

Thus ended he ; the greater Gods alfent^ 
By clamours urging his fevere intent $ 
The lefs fill up the cty for puniihment. 
Yet ftill with pity they remember man j 
And mourn as much as heavenly fpirits can. 
They afk, when thofe were loft of human birth. 
What he would do with all his wafte of earth i 
If his difpeopled world he would refign 
To beafts, a mute, and more ignoble line ? 
Negle£led altars muft no longer (moke, 
If none were left to worfhip and invoke. 
To whom the father of the Gods rcpIyM : 
Lay that unneceffary fear alide : 
Mine be the care new people to provide* 

IwiU 



1 



I 



i 



F R O M O V I D. 309 

I will from wondrous pnnciples ordain 

A race unlike the firft, and try my (kill again. 

Already had he tofs'd the flaming brand. 
And roird the thunder in his fpacious hand ) 
Preparing to difcharge on feas and land : 
But ftopt, for fear, thus violently driven. 
The rparks (hould catch his axle-tree of heaven. 
Remembering, in the Fates, a time, when fire 
Should to the battlements of heaven afpire. 
And all his blazing worlds above ftiould'bum^ 
And all th' inferior globe to cinders turn. 
His dire artillery thus difmifs^d, he bent 
His thoughts to fome fecurer puniihment : 
Concludes to pour a watery deluge down ; 
And, what he durft not bum, refolves to drown. 

The northern breath, that freezes floods, he binds { 
With all the race of cloud-difpelling winds : 
The South he loos'd, who night and horror brings j 
And fogs are ihaken from his flaggy wings. 
From his divided beard two ftreams he pours j 
His head and rheumy eyes diftil in (howers. 
With rain hi» robe and heavy mantle flow 1 
And lazy miSts are lowering on his brow. 
Still as he fwept along, with his clenchM fl(l. 
He fqueez^d the clouds 5 th' imprifon'd clouds refift t 
The (kies, from pole to pole, with peals refound 5 
And flK>wers inlarg'd come pouring on the ground. 
Then, clad in colours of a various die^ 
Junpnian Iris breeds a new fupply, 

X 3 To 



310 TRANSLATIONS 

To feed iTie clouds impetuous rain defcends ; 
The bearded corn beneath the burthei> bends t 
Defrauded clowns deplore their peri/h'd grain } 
And the long labours of the year arc vain. 

Nor from his patrimonial heaven alone 
Is Jove content to pour his vengeance down : 
Aid from bis brother of the feat hecraves^ 
To help him with auxiliary waves. 
The watery tyrant calls his brooks and floods^ 
Who roll from moflfy caves, their moift abodes; 
And with perpetual urns his palace fill : 
To whom in brief he thus imparts his will : 

Small exhortation needs j your powers employ t 
And this bad world (fo Jove requires) deftroy, 
J-et loofe the reins to all your watery ftore : 
Bear down the dams, and open every door. 

The floods, by nature enemies to land, 
And proudly fwejling with their new command. 
Remove the living fiones that ftopp'd their way, 
And, gufhing from their fourcCf augment the fea. 
Then, with his mace, their monarch ftruck the ground : 
With inward trembling earth received the wound ; 
And rifmg dreams a ready paflage found. 
Th' expanded waters gather on the plain. 
They float the fields, and overtop the grain t 
Then, nifhing onwards, with a fweepy fway. 
Bear flocks, and folds, and labouring hinds away* 
Nor fafip their dwellings were ; for, fapM by flooda« 
Tb^r houfes fell upon their houihold Gods* 

The 



} 



F R O M O V I D, 311 

TTie folid piles, too ftrongly built to fall, 
High o'er their heads behold a watery wall. 
Now Teas and earth were in confuHon loft $ 
A world of waters, and without a ccaft. 

One climbs a cliff ; one in his boat is borne. 
And ploughs above, where late he fowM his corn. 
Others o'eir chimney tops and turrets row. 
And drop their anchors on the meads below : 
Or, downward driven, they bruife the tender vine; 
Or, tofs'd aloft, .are knock'd againft a pine. 
And where of late the kids had cropp'd the grafs. 
The raonfters of the deep now take their place. 
Infulting Nereids on the cities ride. 
And wondering dolphins o*er the palace glide. 
On leaves, and mafts of mighty oaks, they brouze; 
And their broad fins entangle in the boughs. 
The frighted wolf now fwims among the fheep j 
The yellow lion wanders in the deep : 
His rapid force no longer helps the boar : 
The flag fwims fafter than he ran before. 
The fowls, long beating on their wings in vainy 
Defpair of land, and drop into the main. 
Now hills and vales no more diftin6lion know. 
And levelM nature lies opprefsM below. 
The moft of mortals perifh in the flood. 
The fmall remainder dies for want of food. 

A mountain of fhipendous height there flands 
Betwixt th* Athenian and Baeotian lands. 
The bound of fruitful fiel is, while fields they were, 
BtK then a field of waters did appear 1 

X 4 , ParnafTut 



511 TRANSLATIONS 

ParnafTus is its name ; whofe forky rife 

Mounts through the clouds, and mates the lofty ikiet. 

High on the fummit of this dubious cliiFy 

Deucalion wafting moor*d his little (kiff. 

He with his wife were only left behind 

Of periihM man ; they two were human-kind. 

The mountain-nymphs and Themis they ador^ 

And from her oracles relief implore. 

The mod upright of mortal men was hej 
The moft fmccre and holy woman, (he. 

When Jupiter, forveying earth from highf 
Beheld it in a lake of water lie, 
That, where fo many millions lately liv'd. 
But two, the bed of either fex, furvivM, 
He loos'd the northern wind ; fierce Boreas flies 
To puff away the clouds, and purge the flcies i 
Serenely, while he blows, the vapours driven 
Difcover heaven to earth, and earth to heaven. 
The billows fall, while Neptune lays his raacc 
On the rough fea, and fmooths its furrowM face. 
Already Triton, at his call, appeals 
Above the waves : a Tyrian robe he wears j 
And in his hand a crooked trumpet bears. 
The fovereign bids him peaceful founds infpire» 
And give the waves the fignal to retire. 
His writhcn (hell he takes, whofe naiTow vent 
Grows by degrees into a large extent 5 
Then gives it breath j the blaft, with doubling foundj 
Runs the wide circuit of the world around. 

The 



I 



F R O M O V I D. SM 

The fun firft heard it, in his early Eaft, 
And met the rattling echos in the Weft. 
The waters, liftening to the trumpet's roar. 
Obey the fummons, and forfake the fliore. 

A thin circumference of land appears j 
And earth, but not at once, her vifage rears. 
And peeps upon the Teas from upper grouuds : 
The ftreams, but juft contained within their bounds. 
By flow degrees into their channels crawl j 
And earth increafes as the waters fall. 
In longer time the tops of trees appear. 
Which mud pn their diflionour'd branches bear. 

At length the world was all reftor'd to view. 
But defolate, and of a ficlcly hue : 
Nature beheld herfclf, and ftood aghaft, 
A difmal defert, and a filent wafte. 

Which when Deucalion, with a piteous look. 
Beheld, he wept, and thus to Pyrrha fpoke : 
Oh wife, oh fifter, oh of all thy kind 
The beft and only creature left behind. 
By kindred, love, and now by dangers, join'd j 
Of multitudes, who breath'd the common air, 
We two remain ; a fpccies in a p?.ir : 
The reft the feas have fwallowM ; nor have wc 
Ev'n of this wretched life a certainty. 
The clouds are ftill above 5 and, while I fpeak, 
A fecond deluge o'er our heads may break. 
Should I be fnatchM from hence, and thou remain. 
Without relief, or partner of thy pain. 
How could'ft thou fuch a wretched life fuftain ? 

Should 



} 



1 



1 



Si6 TRANSLATIONS 

The fappy parts, and next refembliag juice. 
Were turn'd to moidure, for the body's ufe i 
Supplying humours, blood, and nourifliment : 
The reft, too folid to receive a bent, 
Converts to bones ; and what was once a vein. 
Its former name and nature did retain. 
By help of power divine, in little fpace. 
What the man threw aflum'd a manly face ; 
And what the wife, renewM the female race. 
Hence we derive our nature, born to bear 
Laborious life, and hardened into care. 

The reft of animals, from teeming earth 
Produc'd, in various forms received their birth. 
The native moifture, in its clofe retreat, 
Digefted by the fun's aetherial heat. 
As in a kindly womb, began to breed » 
Then fwelPd, and quicken'd by the vital feed. 
And fome in lefs, and fome in longer fpace. 
Were ripenM into form, and took a feveral face. 
Thus whenthe Nile from Pharian fields is fled. 
And feeks with ebbing tides his ancient bed. 
The fat manure with heavenly fire is warnnM j 
And crufted creatures, as in wombs, are form'd : 
Thefe, when they turn the glebe, the peafants find i 
Some nide, and yet unfinifh'd in their kind s 
Short of their limbs, a lame imperfeft birth i 
One half alive, and one of lifelefs earth. 

For heat and moifture when in bodies joined, 
The temper that refults from cither kind 

Conception 



•J 



F R O M O V I ft. 317 

Conception makes ; and fighting, till they mix. 
Their mingled atoms in each other fix. 
Thus nature's hand the genial bed prepares 
With friendly difcord, and with fruitful Avars. 

From hence the furface of the ground with mud 
And flime befmear'd (the faeces of the flood) 
Received the rays of heaven ; and, fucking ia 
The feeds of heat, new creatures did begin s 
Some were of feveral forts producM before j 
But of new monfters earth created more. 
Unwillingly, but yet (he brought to light 
Thee, Python too, the wondering world to fright, 
And the new nations, with Co dire a fight. 
So monf^rous was his bulk, fo large a fpace 
Did his vaft body and long train embrace : 
Whom Phoebus balking on a bank efpy'd. 
Ere now the God his arrows had not try'd. 
But on the trembling deer, or mountain -goat j 
At this new quarry he prepares to (hoot. 
Though every (haft took place, he fpent the ftore 
Of his full quiver 5 and 'twas long before 
Th' expiring ferpent wallow 'd in his gore. 
Then, to preferve the fame of fuch a deed. 
For Python (lain, he Pythian games decreed. 
Where noble youths for mafter(hip (hould ftrive. 
To quoit, to run, and fteeds and chariots drive. 
The prize was fame, iri witnefs of renown, 
An oaken garland did the viftor crown. 
The laurel was not yet for triumphs bom 5 
But every green alike by Phoebus worn 
Did, witli pfomifcuous grace, his flowing locks adorn 

The 



\ 



\ 



ji8 TRANSLATIONS 

f 

The Transformation of DAPHNE 
into a Laurel* 

The fird and faircil of his lofes was /he 
Whom not blind fortune, but the dire decree 
Of angry Cupid forcM him to defire : 
Daphne her name, and Peneus was her fire.^ 
Sweird with the pride that new fuccefs attends^ 
He fees the ftripling, while his bow he bends. 
And thus infults him : Thou lafcivious boy. 
Are arms like thefe for children to employ ? 
Know, fuch atchievements are my proper claim ] 
Due to my vigour and unerring aim : 
Refiftlefs are my (hafts j and Python late. 
In fuch a featherM death, has found his fate. 
Take up thy torch, and lay my weapons byi 
With that the feeble fouls of lovers fry. 
To whom the fon of Venus thus reply'd : 
Phoebus, thy (hafts are fure on all befide ; 
But mine on Phoebus : mine the fame (hall be 
Of all thy conqueils, when I conquer thee. 

He faid, and foaring fwiftly wingM his flight ; 
Nor ftept but on ParnaiTus' airy height. 
Two different (hafts he from his quiver draws ; 
One to repel deilre, and one to caufe. 
One (haft is pointed with refulgent g^ld, 
To bribe the love, and make the lover bold t 
One blunt, and tipt with lead, whofe bafe allay 
Provokes difdain, and drives deiire away. 

The 



F R O M O V I D. 31^ 

The blunted bolt againft the nymph he dred : 
But with the fliarp transfixM Apollo's fcreaft. 

Th' enamourM Deity purfues the chace ; 
The fcornful damfel (huns his loathM embrace t 
In hunting beafts of prey her youth employs j 
And Phoebe rivals in her rural joys. 
With naked neck (he goes, and fhoulders bare» 
And with a fillet binds her flowing hair. 
By many fuitors fought, (he mocks their pains. 
And ftill her vow'd virginity maintains. 
Impatient of a yoke, the name of bride 
She fhuns, and hates the joys fhe never try'd. 
On wilds and wood (he fixes her defire i 
Nor knows what youth and kindly love infpire. 
Her father chides her oft : Thou ow'ft, fays he, 
A hulband to tliyfelf, a fon to me. 
She, like a crime, abhors the nuptial bed : 
She glows with blufhes, and (he hangs her head. , 
Then, calling round his neck her tender arms. 
Soothes him with blandishments and filial charms s 
Give me, my lord, fhe faid, to live, and die, 
A fpotkfs maid, without the marriage-tie. 
•Tis but a fmall requeft 5 I beg no more 
Than what Diana's father gave before. 
The good old fire was foften'd to confent ; 
But faid, her wifh would prove her punifhment : 
For fo much youth, and fo much beauty joined, 
Oppos'd the ftate, which her defires defign'd. 

The God of light, afpiring to her bed, 
Hopes what he feeks, with flattering fancies fed } 
Aod is by his own oracles mi fled. 

And 



1 



lid TRANSLATIONS 

And as in empty fields the ftiibble burnsy 

Or nightly ti-avelkrs, when day returns. 

Their ufelefs torches on dry hedges throw. 

That catch the flames, and kindle all the row | 

So burns the God, confuming in deHre, 

And feeding in his breaft the fruitlefs fire i 

Her well-turnM neck he viewM (her neck was bare} 

And on her (hoiilders her diflieverd hair i 

Oh, were it comb'd, laid he, with what a grace 

Would every waving curl become her face I 

He view'd her eyes, like heavenly lamps that (hone ! 

He view'd her lips, too fwcet to vievi^ alooe. 

Her taper fingers, and her panting breaft j 

He praifes all he fees, and for the reft 

B'jlieves the beauties yet unfeen are beft. 

Swift as the wind, the damfel fled away, 

Nor divl for thefe alluring fpeeches ftay : 

Stay, nymph, he cry'd, I follow, not a foe t 

Thus from the Lion trips the trembling Doe ; 

Thus from the Wolf the frighten'd Lamb removes, ^ 

And from purfuing Falcons fearful Doves ; V 

Thou (hunn'ft a God, and fhunn'ft a God, that loves, j 

Ah, left fome thorn fliould pierce thy tender foot. 

Or thou fhould'ft fall in flying my purfuit ! 

To ftiarp uneven ways thy fteps decline 5 

Abate thy fpecd, and I will bate of mine. 

Yet think from whom thou doft fo raflily fly j 

Nor bafely born, nor (hepherd's fwain am I. 

Perhaps thou know'ft not my fuperior ftate ; 

And from that ignorance proceeds thy hate. 

S Me 



} 



. P R O M O V 1 D. zn 

Me ClaroS) Delphos, Tenedos obey ; 

Thefe hands the Patareian fceptre fway. 

The king of Gods begot me : what fliall be. 

Or is^ or ever was, in fate» I fee. 

Mine is tV invention of the charming lyre ; 

Sweet notes and heavenly numbers I infpire* 

Sure is my bow, unerring is my dart $ 

But ah! more deadly his, who piercM my heart* 

Medicine is mine, what herbs and fimples grow 

In fields and forefts, all their powers I know | 

And am the great phyfician call'd below. 

Alas, that fields and forefis can afford 

No remedies to heal their love-fick lord ! 

To cure the pains of love, no plant avails $ 

And his own phyfic the phyfictan fails. 

She heard not half, fo furioufly fhe flies. 
And on her ear th* imperfe£l accent dies. 
Fear gave her wings ; and as fhe fled, the wind 
Increafmg fpread her flowing hair behind j 
And left her legs and thighs exposed to view ) 
Which made the God more eager to purfue. 
The God was young, and was too hotly bent 
To lofe his time in empty compliment : 
But, led by love, and firM by Aich a fight, 
Impetuoufly purfued his near delight. 

As when th* impatient greyhound, dipt from far^ 
Bounds o^er the glebe, to courfe the fearful hare. 
She in her fpeed does all her fafety lay j 
And he with double fpeed purfues the prey | 

Vol. III. Y O'er- 



She, urgM by fear, her feet did fwiftly move f 
But he more fwiftly, who was urg'd by \owc. 
He gathers jgtound upon her in the chace : 
Now breathes upon her hair, with nearer pace ^ 
And juft is faftcning on the wifh'd embrace. 
The nymph grew pale, and in a mortal fright^ 
Spent with the labour of fo long a flight ; 
And now defpainng call a mournful look. 
Upon the ftreams of her paternal brook : 
Oh, help, (he cry'd, in this extremeft need. 
If Water-Gods are Deities indeed : 
Gape, e^hh, and this unhappy wretch intomb :. 
Or change my form whence all my forrows come. 
Scarce had (he finifh^d, when her feet (be found 
BenumbM with cold, and faftenM to the ground s 
A filmy rind about her body grows> 
Her hair to leaves, her arms extend to boughs : 
The nymph is all into a laurel gone, 
T'u. r^^^«.i«««r. ^fu^^ /u:^ ^«^»:U'. «i^.«« 



F R O M O V I D. J«r 

He fixM his lips upon the trembling rind ; * 

It fwervM afide, and his embrace declined. 
To whom the God : Becaufe thou canft not be 
My miftrefs, I efpoufe thee for my tree : 
Be thou the prize of honour and renown ; 
The deathlefs poet, and the poem, crown. 
Thou fhalt the Roman feftivals adorn, 
And, after poets, be by vi£lors worn. 
Thou (halt returning Caefar's triumph grace ; 
When pomps (hall in a long proceflion pafs i 
Wreath'd «n the poft before his palace wait j 
Ana be the facred guardian of the gate : 
Secure from thunder, and unharm'd by Jove, 
Unfading as th' immortal powers above : 
And as the locks of Phoebus are unfhorn. 
So fhall perpetual green thy boughs adorn. 
The grateful tree was pleasM with what he fald. 
And fhook the fhady honours of her head. 

The Transformation of I O into an Heifer. 

An ancient foreft in ThefTalia grows ; 
Which Tempers pleafant valley does inclofe j 
Through this the rapid Peneus takes his courfe ) 
From Pindus rolling with impetuous force ; 
Mifts from the river's mighty fall arife j 
And deadly damps inclofe the cloudy ikies : 
Perpetual fogs are hanging o*er the wood | 
And founds of waters deaf the neighbourhood^ 

Y % Decp^ 



All doubtfuly whether to congratulate 
Hi» daughter*8 honour, or lament her fate. 
S|>erchaeus9 crownM with poplar, firft appears | 
Then old Apidanus came crowned with years : 
Enipeus turbulent, Amphryfos tame 5 
And iEas lail with lagging waters came. 
Then of his kindred brooks a numerous throng 
Condole his lois, and bring their urns along. 
Not one was wanting of the watery train. 
That fitrd his flood, or mingled with the mainj 
But Inachas, who, in his cave alone, 
Wept not another's loflfes, but his own | 
For his dear lo, whether ftray'd or dead. 
To him uncertain, doubtful tears he ihed. 
He (ought her through the World, but fought in 
And, no where finding, rather feared her flain. 

Her juft returning from her fathers brookj 
Jove had beheld with a defiring look $ 

AnA. rXt fair /1<i«irpltl>Ai« r»f fV»A (\nnA !»*» CatA- 



F R O M p V I D. ias 

Nor (halt thou tempt the clangers of the grove 

Alone without a guide 5 thy guide is Jove. 

No puny power, but he, whofe high command 

Is unconfin'd, who rules the feas and land. 

And tempers thunder in his awful hand. 

Ob, fly not (for ihe fled from his embrace 

O'er Lerna's paftures) : he purfued the chace 

Along the (hades of the Lyrcaean plain j 

At length the God who never a(ks in vain. 

Involved with vapours, imitating night. 

Both air and earth 5 and then fupprefsM her flight. 

And, mingling force with love, enjoy*d the full delights 

Mean -time the jealous Juno, from on high 

Surveyed the fruitful fields of Arcady ; 

And wonder'd that the mi ft (hould over-run 

The face of day-light, and obfcure the fun. 

No natural caufe (he found, from brooks or bogs. 

Or roarfhy lowlands to produce the fogs ; 

Then round the (kies flie fought for Jupiter, 

Her faithlefs hufband ; but no Jove was there. 

Sufpefling now the worft, Or I, (he faid. 

Am much miftaken, or am much betray'd. 

With fury (he precipitates her flight j 

Difpels the fliadows of diflbnbled night. 

And to the day reftores his native light. 

Tir almighty leacher, careful to prevefit 

The confequence, forefeeing her defcent, 

Transforms his miftrefs in a trice : and now 

In Io*s place appears a lovely cow. 

-Y 3 So 



1 



And beggM the beauteous heifer of her lord. 
What fliould he do ? 'twas equal fhame to Jove, 
.Or to relinquifh, or betray his love : 
•jVet to refufe fo flight a gift, would be 
{But; more t' increafe his cqnfort's jealoufy : 
Thus fear, and love, by turns his heart a/Tairj j 
And ftrongcr love had fure at length prevail'd ; 
But fome faint hope remained, his jealous queen 
Had not the miftrefs through the heifer fecn. 
The pautious Goddefs of her gift pofleft. 
Yet harboured anxious thoughts within her hrtSiSt { 
As Ihe who knew the falfehood of her Jove, 
And juftly fear'd fome new relapfe of love. 
Which to prevent, and to fecure her care. 
To trufty Argus ihe commits the fair. 

The head of Argus (as -with ftars the Odes) 
Was compafs'd round, and wore an hundred eyes, 
But two by turns their lids in flumber-fteep ; 



FRjO M.iO Y I D. 33L7 

In fi«ld3 he fuffejM her to feed by day ^ 
But, vfchen the te'tting fun to night gave way. 
The captiv* cow he fummon'd with a caU, 
And di-ovVher back, apd t/d her to the ftalL 
On leaves of trees and bUter herbs fhe fed", 
Heaven wais her ca«opy,' "bare earth her bed 9 
So hardly lodgM : and to dijgeft her food, . 

She drank from troubled rfrcaiiis defilM wTtli mud; 
Her woful ftoryirdm "fhe w-diiia have told,' 
With hands upheld, But ihdni/ hands to holtj. 
Her head to her ungfentje kc^p^bow^d. 
She ftrove to fpeak ; meYpoke not, but (jie low'd, ' 
Affrighted with' the 'iioife, fke look'd around, * 
And fefcm*d t'inquire th? author of the found. 

Once on the banks wheri often fhe had play'd 
(Her father's bank«) /he came, and there furvey'd 
Her alter'd vifage, and her branching head 5 
And flarting from herfelf fhe would have fledl 
Her fellow-nymphs, familiar to her eyes. 
Beheld, but knew her not in this difguife, 
Ev'n Inadius himfelf was ignorant j 
And in his daughter did his daughter want. 
She folio wM where her fellows went, as Ihe 
Were flill a partner of the company c 
They flroke her neck ; the gentle heifer flands. 
And her neck offers to their fh-oking hands : 
Her father gave her grafs ; the grafs fhe took 5 
And lickM his palms, and cafl a piteous look ; 
And in the language of her eyes fhe fpoke. 

¥4 Slic 



\ 



32S TRANS L A T IONS 

She would have told her name^ and tiQCd relief. 
But, wanting words, in tears fhe tells her grief. 
Which with her foot (he makes him underftand $ 
And prints the name of lo in the fand^ 
Ah wretched me I her mournful father cry"*d j 
She with a figh to 'wretched me reply'd t 
About her milk-white neck his arms he threw; 
And wept, and then thefe tender words enfue : 
And art thou /he, whom \ have fought around 
The world, and have at length fo fadly found ? 
So found, is worfe than loft : with mutual words 
Thou anfwer'ft not, no voice thy tongue affords i 
But fighs are deeply drawn from out thy breaft } 
And fpecch deny'd by lowing is ezprefsM. 
Unknowing, I preparM thy bridal bed % 
With empty hopes of happy iflue M. 
But now the hulband of a herd muft be 
Thy mate, and bellowing fons thy progeny. 
Oh, were I mortal, death might bring relief ! 
But now my God-head but extends my grief j 
Prolongs my woes, of which no end I fee. 
And makes me curfe my immortality. 
More had he faid, but, fearful of her ftay. 
The ftany guardian 4rove his charge away 
To fome frelh pafture ; on a hilly height 
He fate himfelf, and kept her iUU in fight. 



The 



'F RTCM OVID. 3*J 

The ^YES of- ARGUS transformed into a 
Peacock's Train. 

Now Jove no longer could her fufFerings bear : 
But caird in hafte his airy melTenger, 
The fon of Mai'a, with fcvere decree 
To kill the keeper, and to fet her free. 
With all his harnefs foon the Gcd was fped ; 
His flying hat was faften'd on his head} 
Wing^ oh his heels were hung, and in his hand 
He holds the virtue of the fnaky wand. 
The liquid air his. moving pinions wound. 
And, in the moment, (hoot him on the ground. 
Before he came in fight, the crafty God 
His wings difmifs'd, but dill retained his rod : 
That deep -procuring wand wife Hermes took. 
But made it feem to fight a (hepherd's hook. 
With this he did a herd of goats control 3 
Which by the way he met, and (lily ftole. 
Clad like a country fwain, he pip'd, and fung; 
And playing drove his jolly troop along. 

With pleafure Argus the raufician heeds j 
But wonders much at thole new vocal reeds. 
And whofo'er tliou art, my friend, faid he. 
Up hither drive thy goats, J^nd play by me : 
This hill has brouze for them, i;nd (hade for thee. 
The God, who was with eafe induc'd to climb. 
Began difcourfe to pafs away the time ; 
And ftill betwixt his tuneful pipe he plies : 
And watch'd his hour, to clofe the keeper's eyes. 

5 • With 



J 



331 TRANSLATIONS 

Impatient to revenge her injured bed, 
She wreaks her anger on her rivars head ; 
With furies frights her from her native homey 
And drives her gadding round the world to roam t 
Nor ceasM her madnefs and her flight, before 
She touchM the limits of the Pharian (hore# 
At length, arriving on the banks of Nile, 
Wearied with length of ways, and worn with toil. 
She laid her down : and, leaning on her knees. 
Invoked the caufe of all her miferies : 
And call her languifhing regards above. 
For help from heaven, and her ungrateful Jove. 
She figh'd, (he wept, (he low'd 5 'twas all fhe could | 
And with unkindnefs feeni'd to tax the God. 
Laft, with an humble prayer, /he beggM repofe. 
Or death at leaft to finifh all her woes. 
Jove heard her vows, and, with a flattering look» 
In her behalf to jealous Juno fpoke. 
He caft his arms about her neck, and faid : 
Dame, reft fecure ; no more thy nuptial bed 
This nymph (hall violate ; by Styx I fwear. 
And every oath that binds the Thundei*er. 
The Goddefs was appeas'd : and at the word 
Was lo to her former (hape rcftor'd. 
The rugged hair began to fall away j 
The fweetnefs of her eyes did only (by. 
Though not fo large ; her crooked horns decreafe j 
The widencfs of her jaws and noftrils ceafe : 
Her hoofs to hands return, in little fpace; 
The five long taper fingers take their place | 

And 



F R M O V I D. 333 

And nothing of the heifer now is feen, 
Befide the native whitenefs of her (kin. 
Erefted on her feet fhe walks again. 
And two the duty of the four fuftain. 
She tries her tongue, her filence foftly breaks. 
And fears her fonner lowings when fhe fpeaks : 
A Goddefs now through all th' Egyptian ftatc ; 
And ferv'd by priefts, who in white linen wait. 

Her fon was Epaphus, at length believ'd 
The fon of Jove, and as a God received. 
With facrificc ador'd, and public prayers* 
He common temples with his mother (hares. 
Equal in years, and rival in renown 
With Epaphus, the youthful Phaeton, 
Like honour claims, and boafts his (ire the fun. 
His haughty looks, and his afTuming air. 
The fon of Ifis could no longer bear : 
Thou tak'ft thy mother's word too far, faid he. 
And hait ufurpM thy boafted pedigree. 
Go, bafe pretender to a borrowM name ! 
Thus tax*d, he bluflf d with anger, and with (hame ; 
But (hame reprefsM his rage : the daunted youth 
Soon feeks his mother, and enquires the truth i 
Mother, faid he, this infamy was thrown 
By Epaphus on you, and me your fon. 
He fpoke in public, told it to my face $ 
Nor durfl I vindicate the dire dlfgrace : 
Ev'n 1, the bold, the fenfible of wrong, 
Reftrain'd by (hame, was forc'd to hold my tongue. 
To hear an open (lander, is a curfe : 
But not to find an anfwer, i$ a worfe. 

If 



\ 



3H T R A N S L A T I O N S, &c» 

If I am heaven-begoti affert your (on 

By fome Aire fign $ and make my father known^ 

To right my honour, and redeem your own. • 

He faid, and faying caft bis arms about 

Her neck, and begged her to refolre the doubt. 

^Tis hard to judge if Clymene were mov'd 
More by his prayer, whom (he fo dearly lov'd. 
Or more with fury fir'd* to find her name 
Traduc'd, and made the fport of common fame. 
She ftrctch'd her arms to heaven, and fix'd her eyes 
On that fair planet that adorns the fkies ; 
IJJow by thofe beams, faid fhe, whofe holy fires 
CJonfume my breaft, and kindle my defires ; 
By him who fees us both, and chears our fight. 
By him, the public minifter of light, 
I fwear that Sun begot thee : if I lye. 
Let him his chearful influence deny: 
Let him no more this perjur'd creature fee. 
And fhine on all the world but only me. 
If ftill you doubt your mother's innocence. 
His eaftern manfion is not far from hence 5 
With little pains you to his levee go, ' 
And from himfelf your parentage may know. 
With joy th' ambitious youth his mother heard^ 
And eager for the journey foon prepar'd. 
He longs the world beneath him to furvey ; 
To guide the chariot, and to give the day : 
From Meroe's burning fands he bends his coiirfe. 
Nor lefs in India feels his father's force i 
His travel urging, till he came in fight, 
And faw the palace by the purple light, CON- 



1 335 1 

CO K T E NTS 

O F T H E 
THIRD VOLUME. 

DEdication to the Duke of Ormond Page f 

Preface piefixed to the Fables - xj 

Tales from Chaucer. 

To her Grace the Dutchefs of Ormond, with the 

Poem of Palamon and Arcite : - 49 

Palamon and Arcite - - 55 

The Cock and the Fox - - 139 

The Flower and the Leaf - - 167 

The Wife of Bath, her Tale - - 18? 

Cliara6ler of a good Parfon - - 207 

Translations from B o c c a c E. 

Si;5ifracnda and™uifcardo - - 215- 

Theodore and Honoria - - 241 

Cymon and Iphigenia - - 256 

Translations from Ovid's Metamorphoses. 

Dedication to Lord Radcliffe - - 281 

The Firft Book of Ovid's Metamorphofes - 297 
The Golden Age - . - 301 

The 



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